


Drinks and Debts

by emissaryarchitect



Category: Ava's Demon
Genre: F/M, and tuls, but theyre lowkey, gev is in here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5503580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emissaryarchitect/pseuds/emissaryarchitect
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ava works at a bar, under her godmother Wrathia as she slowly pays off a lifetime of debt. When the new piano player comes in to work, will he make her life easier or harder? <br/>...Probably harder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinks and Debts

**Author's Note:**

> a first prize for thedesignateddriver on my tumblr... but its easier to read here... 46 pages is a lot...

The entire room was dim – and that was how Ava liked it.

Tables were being wiped from their sticky tops as she softly rubbed glasses clean of smudges and imperfections. The bar itself still had rings stained into the hardwood from where she couldn’t wipe the moisture away fast enough or when someone didn’t use the convenient coasters that they provided. She could polish the flat top all she liked, but they’d still be there, a reminder of the establishment’s low funding.

It was a quiet night, too. There were only a few people around, some regulars who were stewing over their day with a glass of lukewarm whiskey to help the night’s sharp edges round into something a little more tolerable when they went home that night. She knew most of them by name, and they knew hers – but they rarely spoke to her, and that was fine.

A few patrons played with the pool table, discussing their lives in low voices, murmuring and exhaling foul plumes of cigar smoke. There was a faint clatter as the decorative pool balls hit against the tiny wooden wall, and she tried to focus on the glasses.

Outside was a cool, crisp night. She might even be able to go home earlier, tonight, things were going so slow.

She scanned the room, eyes settling on the unused piano in the corner. It had been neglected, and she dusted it off as well as she could, keeping the seat’s leather from cracking and making sure it didn’t look entirely too trashy. She couldn’t play, but she kept it looking nice anyway – sometimes customers came in and played with calloused fingers dark from work that day.

The last customer left a tip on the table and exited into the clear night. Ava wiped her hands and set the bar glass down, straightening out her uniform as she stepped around the side of the bar and made a B-line to the table. She snatched the bill between thumb and forefinger, slipping it into her pocket.

“Looks like we’re almost done for the night,” the dishwasher announced, looking around the empty bar. Ava nodded, loosening her rusty red hair from the bun she had fastened it in, and began flicking various lights off. Her hair stuck to the back of her neck and she felt her brows pinch as she had to go on the tips of her toes to reach a lamp switch.

The door chimed, the bell ringing. She muffled an exasperated groan and snapped her head in the direction of the door.

The man who entered wore a dark leather jacket pulled tight against his arms, the collar high. His hair was black and thick as a wolf’s pelt, and he had curiously pale skin, with violet tinges under his gaunt cheekbones where the skin was thin enough to show watercolor veins under the surface.

His eyes were striking – they were deep and sharp, flicking to her face quickly, brows settling hard over them as he glared.

Ava swallowed hard. “We… We’re closing up,” she called out as her hands went to her apron, taking handfuls of it and twisting. The stranger gave her an uncaring glance and looked over the room, seemingly ignoring her. “I said we’re-”

“I h-heard you the f-first time,” he drawled, his stutter like slits in his words. Ava prickled at the nonchalant tone in his voice, and the dishwasher ducked back behind the wall.

“Then why _are_ you here?” she asked lowly, keeping herself steady. This was a slow night, and she was determined to keep it that way.

He ignored her again, and she was about to ask her question in a much firmer way before his sight finally settled on the piano in the far corner of the room.

For a moment, his mouth pulled into a smile, showing off-white crooked teeth and a lopsided face, eyes squinted from the largeness of it. Then, like a wisp of smoke it vanished as quickly as it formed, leaving a hard façade.

Ava felt her heart skip a beat – she had not meant to see past the mask that he had burdened himself with, yet she had, and he shot her a threatening look as though she would point at him and declare that he had revealed any other expression than the scowl he had entered with. She automatically put her hands up in defense _, I’m not going to tell_ , and he scoffed.

The man came to the piano and lifted up the slot that covered the keys, and his fingers traced along the ivory and ebony with a sort of reverence. Ava decided to give up trying to get any info out of him and went back to cleaning up, giving a reassuring wave to the dishwasher.

She began washing the tables one last time, scrubbing hard with an old cloth to try and dissolve the sticky residue of a drunkenly spilled drink. She had loosened her bow a few minutes too soon, and now her hair spilled in front of her face, clinging to her cheeks and tickling her eyelids. She finally flipped the mass over one shoulder, her fingernails biting into the damp cloth as she pushed against the surface.

The dishwasher called out “Ava, I’m done with the glasses. I’m gonna head home – can you lock up?”

She smiled brightly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Yeah, I got it, Gev – remember, I’ve got Thursday off, so don’t get sloppy.” He nodded and tossed the keys her way. She caught them and shoved them in her pocket, pulling the cloth off the table.

Out of curiosity, she looked back to the stranger – he had the top of the piano pulled up, and he examined the inner workings, muttering to himself on occasion. She could only make out a few breathy words.

“Hey guy?” she called out. The stranger didn’t notice.

She tossed the damp, dirty cloth at him, and it hit the back of his head with a satisfying _slap_ , and he spun around, face darkening. He glared at her, jaw going taut and fingers curling into a fist.

“I said, _hey guy_.” Her voice took on a deadly edge. “I am closing up, and if you don’t get your ass outta here in the next minute a dirty washcloth won’t be the only thing I’ll be throwing at your head.”

“I’m s-supposed to b-be intimated by s-someone who c-can’t even reach the counter w-without a footstool?” he jeered, going on the tips of his toes in a mock pose.

The dishwasher stepped out, his face paling. “Dude, are you the piano guy Wrathia mentioned like, two months ago?” The stranger nodded sharply. “Then you really don’t know the ropes – do not get on her nerves. I’m serious.”

The stranger gave him an incredulous look, before rolling his eyes and settling his fingers on the piano keys, smoothly drumming out a perky tune. “I’m th-the piano g-guy, and I’m ch-checking it before starting up t-tomorrow.”

Ava leaned forward and yanked the piano key cover down, and it smashed the stranger’s fingers. He yelped before drawing his hand back, a steady swelling pink line across his digits.

“Then you should have come two months ago,” Ava bit, glaring. She squared her shoulders and pulled her lips back in a sneer.

The stranger popped his collar and buried his fingers in his pockets, making a “ch” noise under his breath. “If I c-come in l-late tomorrow, Bellarmina will know wh-who to blame.”

Ava coughed a guttural laugh, planting her hands on her hips. “Jokes on you, she blames me for everything anyway!”

The stranger was already headed towards the door. “I c-can see why!” he yelled back at her, face flushing a deep violet.

Ava stuck out her tongue as the stranger turned on his heel and slammed the door open, huffing as he exited. She raked her fingers through her hair and unraveled her apron from her hips, slamming it on the counter. “Stupid stuttering two-faced beanpole of an asshole thinks he can talk like that to me,” she huffed, trying to play off the shaking of her hands and the anxiety clawing up her throat. The base of her chest was throbbing horribly, and she exhaled a shaking breath. She was not stressed. She was not going to cry.

Gev cleared his throat. “I’ll just… go now. Have a good night, Ava.” She waved a hand towards him and forced out another breath.

She was so tired of fighting against people, but it was second nature now.

It was supposed to be a quiet night, and it was – the only noise in the whole bar was her unsteady breathing.

OoooooO

Odin scuffed his boot as he walked along the gravel, over to his busted car. That short-tempered redhead had really dampened his mood, more than he would think.

She was sort of… nice to look at, though.

He watched her when she was scrubbing tables, the way her hair tousled across her shoulders, the charming flush on her face as she finished her work. Too bad she had such a bad attitude – but, Odin supposed that it was pretty late, and she might’ve just been irritated at him not responding.

Man, he hated talking. She didn’t seem to mind his stutter, and that made the tips of his ears heat up at her accusations.

He brushed it off and clambered into his car, slowly backing out of the alleyway. However, as the yellow headlights beamed across the dark alleys, catching the corners of garbage cans and dilapidated buildings, he saw something, and slowed, squinting. A moment later the lights caught a flash of fire and he stopped, blinking rapidly.

That girl, Ava, was walking along the alleyway. She was moving sluggishly, her feet almost gliding over the asphalt, before she jerked and leapt, sprinting and diving like a jackrabbit. Odin watched her go, leaning forward on his steering wheel, but his chest hit the middle and a honk resounded down the area. Ava vanished like a thief in the shadows, melting into the dark.

Odin was intrigued, but felt silly for accidentally interrupting the still night, and even the more timid creature. He pulled out of the alleyway with more ease, less inclined to make a ruckus, and decided to head to the temporary apartment. He couldn’t really call it home, though. It was just a place to stay, at least until he could pay off Nanezgani’s debt. After that was paid, his family wouldn’t be hassled anymore, and he could come home.

He really hated this stinking city. There were few things he found likable, and he wondered if he should add that redhead to the list.

OooooO

In truth, Ava had totally forgotten about the dark stranger.

The next morning she had begun to set up shop, unlocking the door and starting her cleaning. The night before her mary-jane’s had stuck eagerly to the floor from stickiness, and if she had to yank her feet from the wooden panels one more time she would burn this whole place to the ground, Wrathia be damned.

But she cast the thought out almost instantly. The only real rebellion she would have against Wrathia would be paying her debts and leaving, once and for all. As Ava went to the back closet, pulling the mop and bucket out of the crumbling room, something wandered sweetly through her senses.

Someone was playing the piano. The tune drifted easily through the rooms, echoing like the last ballad of a dying bard, pushing and pulling though it was a wave of water. Enchanted, Ava stepped behind the counter, and saw the figure of the dark stranger. The events from the late night before dully wormed their way back into her mind, but she only pulled the mop close to her chest and neared him.

He had his head thrown back slightly, face upturned as though he was looking towards the sky. His eyes were half-lidded, mouth pulled into a small, relaxed smile, and his fingers moved with memory and training.

She wasn’t supposed to see that smile. It wasn’t for her.

She retreated, stepping back towards the mop bucket, and after wetting it, she slapped the mop on the floor.

The music died tragically, spasms into random keys being smashed together as the stranger’s hands shoved against the piano in surprise. He spun around, eyes wide – and they were pretty, his eyes, they were dark but clear – and he exhaled shakily. “Y-You – You st-startled m-me.”

Ava scrunched his nose at him. “Who do you think was opening up the bar?” He rolled his shoulders in a shrug, looking away.

She decided not to press him on it, and continued mopping. However, she hadn’t tied her hair back, and it tossed across her face and neck as she scrubbed at a particularly stubborn stain. After a moment she finally got fed up with her hair sticking to her face and snagging on her eyelashes, and she threw her head back. Ava fumbled through her pockets and pulled out the pencil she used to write drink orders or doodles, and she twisted it in the cascades of fire, pulling it into a tight bun. Finally, her neck was bare, and she leaned forward, settling her chin on the top of the mop.

She turned to talk to the stranger, but he was already looking at her. His chin was leaned against his hand, and he was staring at her intensely, and she drew into herself.

“Wh…What?”

He blinked as though snapped out of a daze, and he turned his attention back to the piano. “I w-was just w-wondering… if y-you clean like th-this all the time.”

She looked down at the mop she was leaning on. “I guess. It’s one of the only parts of the job I can do in peace. You know how it is… drunkards, and stuff…”

He turned and began playing the piano again. The tune wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t as smooth, wasn’t as confident. “Dr-Drinking isn’t s-so bad.”

“Please,” she scoffed, turning back to scrub “these people smell like smoke and garbage, they get smashed, and then they come in the next day to repeat it all over again.”

“Sm-smoking isn’t th-that bad, either.”

“Blah blah, I like having my lungs shrivel up like raisins, that’s what I’m hearing,” she interrupted as she mimicked someone talking with her hand.

He laughed huskily. “At l-least I can qu-quit smoking, y-you can’t q-quit being short.”

Ava swung around and slapped the wet mop across his back. He leapt up from the bench, knocking it over as he exclaimed in disgust. “Wh-What is your p-problem?!” He yanked his black jacket off and set it aside, the back damp and dirty.

Ava pointed the mop at him as though it was a loaded gun. “I already get enough harassment from the drunkards here,” she hissed “and I’m not about to let you do the same thing to me! Play your piano, _piano man_ , but don’t even talk to me if you can’t not insult me!”

He faltered for a moment, but that may have been awe that something so small and weak looking seemed to bark so violently. “Th-That’s the pot c-calling the k-kettle black,” he spat “and wh-what you’re doing to m- _me_ is okay?! Th-That was my on-only clean coat! And th-then with the r-rag last night?”

“You came here during closing time, what did you expect me to do, wait around for you to try out this piano? I wasn’t gonna wait around this place any longer than I had to!”

They were leaning closer to the other’s faces, glaring, spitting vinegar. The stranger scoffed and leaned in closer, and Ava felt her stomach clench violently. He had a ring on a chain around his neck, and she fought to maintain eye contact as it glimmered. “F-Fine. Y-You don’t talk to m-me, I d-don’t talk to you.”

Ava’s nose brushed his as she leaned forward an inch closer. “Sounds _perfect_.” She turned on her heel and dragged the bucket with her, setting it back by the closet area. Her hands were shaking – he was bigger than her, and meaner looking, and he could have hurt her.

_But he didn’t_ , she reminded herself. _Not everyone placed on this planet is here to hurt you, Ava, get a grip._

It wasn’t yet two, when the first of the drinkers would start pouring in, so she took her time making sure the glasses were in place. The piano man was setting the bench back up, lamenting his jacket, and Ava felt a little bad – he didn’t know how this place worked, not yet – so she stepped aside and neared where he set his jacket around a chair.

Without saying anything, she snatched it up and avoided his eyes as he bit back an exclamation, and took it to the back sink. Running the hot water, she rubbed the dirty water off of it, pressing the pads of her fingers against the soft leather. It was an old jacket.

She finished getting the dirty water off of it and simply draped it across the same chair it was on earlier, and resumed rearranging the glasses and shot glasses.

Ava didn’t want to make another enemy, but it was so hard not to be mad, or lash out.

Suddenly, a gentle tune drifted across the empty bar. Ava stopped to listen – it swelled and went low, delicate and deep. The stranger was playing with his face to the keys, looking down.

“…O-Odin,” he muttered. Ava blinked. “My…name.”

She nodded, though he couldn’t see it, and they sat in silence, nothing but the tune talking between them.

OooooO

Odin figured he must have hit a sore spot when it came to Ava’s height. However, when he considered that she had little else in the matter of physical appearance, maybe he shouldn’t have pushed it. She had seniority over the bar, and she should have been his superior.

Still, the bite in her tone and the brush of skin against his was enough to spark up a mixed emotion of excitement and fear. “ _Sounds perfect_ ,” she had hissed between clenched teeth, eyes burning.

Ava was better than her word – she washed, scrubbed, dried, organized, relabeled, and did everything. He wondered why she wasn’t appointed manager in this place, but decided not to ask. They both had come to terms with the other’s personality, and they were both quick to anger.

Ava hadn’t spoken to him yet, and he sort of wished that she would. For the moment he was only tuning the piano, which had been neglected – though the wood was not warped, and had its glossy hue, no thanks to none other than the cleaning jackrabbit herself – but it was abysmal to listen to nothing but him toggling the keys as he tightened the strings.

There was a reverberation in the wood from under his feet, and he instantly turned around in a panic, expecting a wild beast to be running at him. Instead, Ava only glanced from him to the rattling window nearby, the latches bumping noisily.

Ava smiled a little, the apple of her cheek flushing softly in the yellow lights. “It’s a train,” she assured.

“Th-There’s t-trains in this town?”

“ _A_ train,” she corrected. She set the glass she had been cleaning of blemishes down, putting among its brethren. “It’s really one of the only ways to get out of this town, and it’s only a first class train – but I’ve heard that it’s worth the money.”

Odin rolled his eyes and turned away, back towards the open piano. “S-Sounds like a tr-trap, to me.”

Ava made a humming noise in reply, as though she wasn’t bothered by his skepticism. “It can be, but anything can be a trap.”

Odin leaned into the piano, budging the clipped end that kept the top up with his elbow. “Y-Yeah yeah, th-that train s-sounds like a sc-scam wh-where people pay w-way too mu-much for a trip that ac-actually dumps you off in th-the middle of some party-central, and before y-you know it y-you’re drinking red wine o-out of a box and s-selling your hair for a t-ticket on a smelly o-old bus home.”

“Sounds like you’ve had experience in these affairs, mister Odin,” Ava leered, and Odin shot up to turn around and deny firstly selling his hair and secondly for drinking from a box, but his head hit the open top of the piano and the clip faltered, so it knocked back down onto his head.

“Ow!” he pulled himself out from under the piano, holding the crown of his head with open palms. He hissed as blood pumped viciously against his scalp, where a lump was swelling.

“Yikes,” Ava sympathized, coming around the counter and weaving past the spinning stools “I can get you some ice from the back-”

“I c-can get it m-myself,” he grumbled, embarrassed by how Ava was right – anything could be a trap. He didn’t want to inconvenience her anymore than he already had. “I d-don’t need your help.”

From the way her expression fell, he realized that sentence could be taken the wrong way awfully easily.

He didn’t have a chance to apologize as the bell on the door chimed – an old veteran stepped in, hanging his hat on a niche sticking out of the wall. “…’Tender,” he rasped “my usual.” Ava stepped back behind the counter, and Odin felt too bitter to actually go into the back room and grab some ice, so he dealt with the throb.

He went back to fixing the piano, and tried to ignore the veteran and Ava’s dejected expression. Damn it, he wasn’t trying to be an asshole. It was just happening.

He could almost hear Olai’s words – _maybe you’re a **natural** ass_. Odin glared at the air and shut the piano top, experimentally tickling the ivories. The piano sounded more like a piano and less like an overexcited lark, so he pushed the bench out, took a seat, and let his fingers take over.

OooooO

Ava watched as Odin played. He was good at it. Talented was the word for it, or trained.

The tune was changing the usual somber atmosphere as more veteran and drunken youth wandered in. This bar wasn’t a place of celebration – with faded wallpaper and dry wood, this was where dreams turned to smoke and vanished before your very eyes. This was the bar people on their last legs went to, to reminisce for a little while longer, to cast the shadows away for a few more days, and let them linger at the door.

This was a graveyard of the living, and every day Ava served liquor to ghosts with skin. Maybe that was why it was so hard to try and have a happy attitude here – though she was hardly surrounded by death, she wasn’t sure they could be considered alive. She wasn’t sure if she could be either.

But for the moment, she went back into her schedule, going through the motions, serving faceless veterans with husky voices and hunched shoulders, though they carried a heaviness no other could see or bear, ignoring the flirts of sickly men with wild eyes and smiles that showed gums when they spoke. She learned to be cautious, but she kept turning from her station to look at Odin.

His hair was tossed back, not swept across his eyes like before. His jacket was still laying aside, and his arms were slender, but still held some weight to them. The chain around his neck was mostly hidden by the collar of his shirt. His fingers moved like a separate being, as though each knuckle was having a conversation of its own with the keys, heard not in words, but a song.

He had broad shoulders, and a slender throat when he leaned back and exhaled, listening to the creation coming off his hands, the tiniest of smirks tugging on the edges of his mouth.

Ava looked away the moment her eyes watched the way his lips pursed.

She was being silly.

“Tender,” another asked “can I get another beer?”

She slid a bottle down the length of the counter, and another old vet caught it in the palm of his calloused hand. Odin had turned to watch, and he turned to another half-asleep veteran, speaking.

“Wh-Why do you c-call Ava tender?”

“Whuh? Oh… s’posed to be _bar_ tender, but she’s a real sweetheart once you get past the pointy bits of her.” Ava tried to make it seem like she wasn’t paying attention to the conversation, but her entire focus was on Odin’s reaction.

She didn’t get to see how he thought of her affectionate nickname from the wiser customers, as someone pinched her butt.

Ava spun around, scowling, already glaring and baring teeth. “Get your hands off of me, you asshole.” The youth pulled his hand back and snickered something at her that she didn’t bother listening to, instead giving him a look that usually set fire to moths. The youth backed off with a “coldhearted bitch” under his breath, and Ava didn’t spare him another glance.

Ava went back to cleaning up the bar, wiping down the flaking wooden top when another regular came in. “Ava,” Tuls greeted in his slow and deliberate way, nodding his head as though cinderblocks were tied to his ears. “The usual?”

She rolled her eyes. “Can you actually pay this time, Tuls? You’ve got a lot on your tab.” He visibly deflated, shoulders going lax and eyes turning to the floor.

Ava put a hand to her temple. Tuls wasn’t as much of a chronic drinker as many of the other regulars, old veterans with aching bones and aching hearts, so she sighed.

“This one’s on the house,” she murmured, sliding a mixed glass down to him. He gave her a grateful nod and nursed his drink accordingly, sipping it slowly and letting the tang settle.

Her hair was bugging her again, so she pulled out a few bobby pins from her apron hanging on the side of the bar, sloppily pinning the stray hairs back as she overheard “You see? Our lil’ tender bartender.”

Ava felt her cheeks flush, but she didn’t show it with a neutral expression.

Odin started up another song, and the atmosphere began to go hazy.

Like most places filled with ghosts of the living, the entire room felt surreal – dreamlike. The faces of her regulars seemed to blend together until they were only painted shadows on a backdrop of the waning sun, trench coats and hunched shoulders, words distorting into low murmurs. The clink of glasses did little to alleviate the bar’s merging aura, having about the effect of a butterfly’s wingbeat, and the music of the piano only pulled the world deeper into its desolate state.

Ava stopped to look at Odin. His hair was smudged against the soft shadows of the setting sun, and his pale skin was a sharp contrast to the honeyed hues of the evening. She could see his fingers dance along the piano gracefully, and she suppressed the urge to sing along. This was not her song – she had no claim to join in with the musical magic that made the bar seem less like a graveyard and more like a pub.

The colors of the night began to overtake the soft pinks and exploding oranges of the sunset, yielding to a cool grey. As the regulars began to chat, Odin never looked more at home in the ebbing shadows that claimed the late hours.

She smiled to herself, closing her eyes for a moment, before pouring another drink.

OoooO

Odin stopped playing to drink in the swiftly warping atmosphere.

This was eerie. Where the regulars were once individual people, they now seemed to merge into the same color paint on a backdrop, mild differences running like wet watercolor across the rosewood tables and landing in chairs, shaping themselves like people. They all seemed to be spirits, nostalgia made manifest in the forms of old men and impetuous youth.

Odin tried to make out the face of the one regular who spoke with him about ‘tender’ Ava earlier, but he could not remember any distinguishing features about him to separate him from the other drinkers, voices and low indistinct as though they were talking a few streets down from the bar, not within it.

The walls of the bar never seemed older than in this moment. Peeling wallpaper and two dollar decorations made the rooms seem detached – someone tore this room out from another world, or another time, and set it here for lost souls to sit in while the world rushed by.

He spotted movement, and sucked in a breath.

Out of the blurriness and the surreal world, Ava sat, sharp as her wit and never succumbing to the dusk. Her hair was burning, pinned in place and wrapped in a sloppy bun, scarlet licking the edges of his vision and leaving spots in his eyes – her hair wasn’t actually a fire, it couldn’t have been, in the same way that these people weren’t really ghosts – but he could almost feel the warmth from her movements like a campfire spitting cinders to ward off the evils of the night.

She turned and tucked a lock behind her ear, mouth forming words that he could understand. “Last drink, Tuls. Then you really should head home.” The mountain of shadows replied, and Ava seemed to understand the sloppy syllables and low groans of the man, because she rolled her golden brown eyes and the makings of a smile played at her lips.

This was strange, but not – not _unpleasant_ , to say in the least. He couldn’t pinpoint why this place stuck fear onto him, clinging like spider-webs under his arms and across his ribs, but it wasn’t enough to deter him from his mission.

The debt.

He glanced back at Ava, who was popping her back, mouth twisted with strain until a low _pop_ was heard, and her shoulders relaxed.

It wouldn’t be completely horrible to work here, as long as that campfire stayed lit.

OoooO

Odin had learnt that Ava did not drink.

In spite of working in a bar, she avoided it with a skill that spoke of her time there, serving it but never drinking it herself, keeping it from her. He wondered if this was hypocritical behavior he should be wary of, or restraint he should admire.

He also noticed that she would watch him while he was playing. At first he thought it odd, and he almost got stage-fright, but the patron’s easy nickname of “tender” fit her well, for in spite of her hard and hot attitude, she was kind to those at first judgement. He realized quickly that it had been his pride and stubbornness that had gotten him off on the wrong foot with her, and some even suggested that Ava would have been the first to welcome him into this town with a pleasant warmness, had he not been so rash.

Ava was pouring a drink and spilled some on her hand – a rare moment, considering she did her best to make no mistakes, as though there was someone hovering over her shoulder and picking at her every move.

She lacked a cloth to wipe her hand with, and blinked in distress. Most would have licked the few droplets off, absent-mindedly, but instead she left her post to go to the back and wash her hands up.

When she came back, Odin asked “Wh-Why not j-just… u-use your mouth?”

“My mouth is for orders and insults,” she replied as she cleaned up the counter where she spilled “not for drinking this poison.”

He almost bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying “Your mouth is for kissing, too” and he found himself flustered he even thought of such a notion. Why would he think that? Right now their best of terms was “conversational companion,” which was a far reach from “romantic relationship.”

Still, he couldn’t help but think it would be a pleasure to have that sort of relationship with her.

For now, he wouldn’t think about it.

OoooO

Ava couldn’t say that she was best friends with Odin, but they had begun to learn the steps of talking to each other without stepping on the other’s feet.

No longer was Ava’s height mentioned in conversation, and Odin’s smoking wasn’t talked about unless he brought it up first.

Their banter was friendly and good natured, and Ava began to look forward to it.

Odin stepped through the door, setting his jacket aside on a chair. Ava snickered to herself. She called out over her shoulder “Gev, quick, call animal control, we have a stray dog in the bar!”

The piano keys were thrashed for a moment as Odin snorted, losing focus. “H-Holy shit, th-that one was actually funny. M-Maybe I’m r-rubbing off on y-you.”

“That’s the last thing I need,” she noted as she stepped on her stool to reach a higher shelf “more things touching me.”

“Yeah,” he thought aloud, turning around on the piano bench to look at her “I no-notice l-lots of g-guys harass you. Wh-Why not k-kick their asses?”

Ava put a hand up, extending a finger. “One: I am very small.” He looked at her standing on the stepstool and the corners of his mouth turned downward as he rolled his shoulders in a half-agreeing shrug. “Two: I can’t cause trouble. I have a… thing, to do, and if I make a ruckus things could get bad for me.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging on the black pelt with a faraway expression dampening his earlier mirth. “I c-can understand that…”

“So-o,” Ava dragged the word out “if _you_ wanna go kick their asses, be my guest.”

“A-Are you kidding me, w-with this su-sunken in chest and th-these st-string beany arms? I’d f-face my odds against the op-opossum th-that haunts your dumpster.”

Ava laughed, and it wasn’t a noise she was used to making – the noise tumbled out of her mouth too quickly, too high pitched, and she put a hand over her lips a second after. Odin chuckled in response, but said nothing about the peculiar thing she spat out.

“Anyway,” Ava muttered, looking back to the bar and planting her palms on it for support “I’m off tomorrow, Gev will have the bar.”

Odin blinked and looked thoughtful. “G-Got an app-appointment or something?”

“Kinda. It’s not going to be fun,” she didn’t notice her hands were wringing out the edge of her shirt until her palms began to ache “so don’t think you’re missing out on much.”

Odin nodded and turned to the piano, beginning his work. Ava wondered how much Wrathia was paying him for this ambience, but she wouldn‘t pry. He had something to do too, and they were both merely trains on parallel tracks. She doubted they would ever diverge.

Gev made a choking noise. “Ava, I promised I’d meet up with Fira at that one accounting place! Can you cover me for like, ten minutes?” She nodded, waving a hand idly, and began rearranging the bottles in proper order. Odin went to the back to go to the bathroom, and she took the moment of solitude to begin humming to herself.

She rarely had a second of silence, so she opened her mouth and sang.

“I’m worst at what I do best,” and her voice did not falter, because she was alone and was assured in the gentle tones her voice could provide “and for this gift I feel blessed.” She took a breath and let her voice carry a little more, so that she could hear it echo off the walls a little. “Our little group has always been – and always will, until-”

“-the end,” Odin continued, leaning against the doorway.

Ava vocally chocked and spun around, her face alighting with a blush. “How long have you been listening?” she demanded, a glare beginning to slip across her features. She had only sung a verse, and she sang it because she was alone and felt confident in her privacy.

Odin put his hands up as though she was a wild horse that needed coaxing. “N-Not long, d-don’t worry, I j-just – I knew th-the song.”

Ava pouted and turned back around, feeling immature and brash, but she could do little about the jackrabbit heartbeat in her chest.

“It’s a g-good song,” Odin attempted to rectify, sounding unsure of himself. His tones softened. “You h-have a g-good singing voice.”

Ava stopped.

“…Thank you,” she responded quietly, almost inaudible against the whirring of the coolers. The bar began to tremble as the train went by, rumbling while the glasses hit each other musically.

Odin returned to his bench and cleared his throat. “Ah… n-never mind.” Ava let it stay at that – she was never one to pry, but the pinched and flustered expression on his face made her pause.

He rubbed a hand across his mouth, deep in thought – his eyes were sharp and dark, his hair a ruffled mess where he kept pulling his fingers through it, and he had yet to shave, slightly scruffy across a jutting jawline and down his slender throat, framed by the chain, and whatever was secured snugly under his shirt.

Ava had to remind herself that staring was rude, and began work once again.

OoooO

He hadn’t meant to listen in, it just happened.

Her voice was careful, lilting and sweet as a newborn butterfly. He recognized the song, and considered interrupting her for shits and giggles, but she inclined her head slightly while putting a glass away.

There was a cool reverence in her face, eyes half lidded and mouth quirked in that charming way that told of a smile blossoming with the roses in her cheeks, and he found himself unable to make a noise. The fire of her hair danced with her singing, a choreographed performance of her form unseen, only displayed in privacy.

It almost felt like he stepped in on her naked in the shower – she was exposed in a way that showed she was more than a little horrified that he had been singing, her tone sharpening and eyes narrowing.

He sat at the bench and ran a hand along his face. Did anyone even realize they had a treasure here? Ava wasn’t fit for this dilapidated bar, she should have been in a cottage, or some place as soft and unyielding as herself.

The first customer came in, and Odin couldn’t fight the shiver that crept up his spine.

Things were going to get weird again.

He couldn’t complain about Ava or the crappy establishment, but when the locals came in, the entire place felt like hollow and cold to the touch. It was getting hard to play while being haunted.

After playing a few songs, he took a break, approaching the bar. He sat on one of the spinning stools and leaned his face on his hand, gesturing Ava over. She gave him a curious look, but passed a local his alcohol before approaching him.

“What’s up?”

He warily glanced to the people, making sure none were listen in, before murmuring “Th-The atmosphere of th-this place is w-weird… it’s l-like the t-town turns ghostly at night. Th-This bar feels like it’s at th-the end of the world.”

She smiled, and he suddenly realized she had been expecting him to ask this. “For some people, it is. This is where veterans and people at the end of their ropes to go drown their sorrows.” She leaned against the bar with her elbows and looked around the room, and her eyes were strangely clear. “For some, its unrequited love… regrets from the past… memories of a war long over… unpaid debts and promises-”

Before he could stop himself, paranoia clambered up his throat. Odin demanded “Wh-Who told you?”

Her eyes refocused on him and she leapt back from the counter at the sharpness of his tone. “What?”

“Wh-Who told you ab-about my debt? W-Was it Wrathia?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she replied “Odin, I was talking about _me_. I’m the one with the debt here – how would I even find out about something like that? Wrathia doesn’t tell me anything.”

The realization that Odin had not only jumped to conclusions but leapt to them like a gazelle on fire made his face flush a shadowy violet, and his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. “I – I’m s-s-sor-s-so – I m-mean I d-di-didn’t m-mean to y-yell l-like-” he gestured to the air wildly with his hands, and the blush on his face only deepened with the fact that Ava was waiting and being patient for him to get his words in order. She wasn’t rushing him – just waiting. “-I d-didn’t mean t-to be r-rude…”

She smiled again, and he wondered how freely she gave those out. “It’s okay. I‘m nervous about my debt too.”

He paused, wondering what it was she was paying off – but decided not to be nosy. He had already scared the rabbit once, he wouldn’t dive it further into its hovel. “Y-Yeah… I sh-should go f-finish playing.”

She nodded and ducked away to refill a drink – and as Odin passed by the husks of people to sit back by the piano, he took a furtive eyeful of her before sitting at the bench.

Her hair was pulled into that wild bun again, the severity of her expression as she swatted away another man’s hand, threatening to cut it off – it was almost familiar now, and though he wouldn’t say it was endearing it was a sight to behold to see someone as small as Ava hold her own against the ghosts that haunted this bar.

Odin bit the inside of his cheek and ran his tongue along his teeth, before sitting back at the bench and playing.

He wondered what would be different about tomorrow, if she wasn’t here.

OoooO

Ava awoke in her home the next morning, surrounded by spider webs and groaning as the building tried to settle.

She had her meeting with Wrathia today.

She wasn’t eager to get up, so she counted the dust motes and watched at the dusty windows fogged up the golden sunlight into an eerie grey. The light crept up the walls until the room was too bright to sleep in, and she sighed forcefully before pulling herself out of bed.

On one hand, this was a good time to see how she was progressing – how much she owed, how quickly she could leave.

On the other hand, Wrathia was none too kind, and Ava always felt hollow and small and horribly pathetic after talking to her. Her godmother could talk circles around Ava until she felt weightless and utterly useless.

So Ava put her best foot forward and tried to lift her own spirits. The meeting wouldn’t be long – and she would have the rest of the day to herself afterwards. She wouldn’t have to visit the stinking bar, she could just go to the mart and get herself something sweet to eat.

With this in mind she dressed, attempting to be positive.

She rustled out some clothes, and stopped to look in the mirror. The scars on her shoulders were still too prominent for her to wear anything short sleeved without feeling self-conscious, and she ran her fingers down the twisted skin with a frown, slowly deepening until she was looking at her feet, both hands cupping her arms.

With a sigh she looked back up – at her savings box. It was a little wooden thing given to her by her mother, a carved box with decorated flowers. The lid had poppies dried onto it and protected by a thin curvature of glass, and inside she had a secret.

When she finally made it out the front door, the energy she had built up quickly went to panic and paranoia.

_What if I haven’t been paying the debts right? What if I haven’t been paying enough? What if she’s found a loophole to keep me working for the rest of my life?_

_What if she finds out about my savings?_

Ava had been secretly taking a handful of money from each paycheck and had been stashing it away since day one. This was so when she finally paid her debt she could skip town as quickly as possible – in her savings, she almost had enough to go onto that legendary, pearly white train everyone always spoke of in reverent voices.

She stepped out the door and hugged her jacket closely around her arms, walking along the sidewalk steadily.

Oh, it was selfish alright. To want to go onto that train that everyone envied, to feel the class and the wealth of it all, to watch as all the people who teased and harassed her would be left behind as she left for a fresh start in an incredible way.

And if Wrathia found out about it, the old witch would have Ava’s head on a silver platter. All remaining funds were supposed to go to that demon.

Ava felt her hands shake even before she could see the building, but as she approached her Godmother’s business her knees began to tremble and feel weak enough to let her collapse.

She came to the door, neatly glossed with foggy glass, and took a breath to steady herself before pushing the door open.

The smell of old perfume and expensive clothing hit her in the face and she tried not to recoil as she crossed the breach between her and the doorway. Her Godmother was sitting at a desk, filing her nails.

Her coppery hair had been pulled up with a striking violet ribbon – her dark, almost bronze skin was scarcely covered with a loose blouse. Her eyes flicked up to Ava before she rolled them and leaned back in her chair.

“What are you doing here? You should be off working and repaying your debt.”

“Uh, we had a meeting scheduled? To check up on my progress?”

Wrathia leaned over to her calendar and began flicking through the pages. “I don’t see any appointment here, Ava. You’d better go.” However, Ava spotted her name in red on the calendar, and slammed her hand on the booklet before Wrathia closed it.

“It’s right there!”

Her godmother barely glanced at it before huffing and replying “So it is. Silly me. Must have slipped past.”

Ava was more than a little perturbed – she was completely confused. Wrathia loved to pick at her, like she was a scab she would never let heal, never let the old wounds finally settle – but now she seemed adamant on trying to get Ava to leave.

“What’s the matter,” Ava glared “have a date or something?”

“As a matter of fact I do,” Wrathia smiled and her teeth were a little too sharp, and her skin was a little too loud to be considered human-ish, and Ava had to remind herself that some people didn’t turn to ghosts when they were at the end of their rope – some liked to dangle off the edge and become demons. “Would you like to know who it is?”

“Not really,” she responded neutrally.

Wrathia gave her a wicked smirk. “Why, jealous?”

“I just don’t want to know what sort of a man _you_ would find attractive,” and Ava wished she could pull the words back but the look on her Godmother’s face made her prickle and the smells were overwhelming and she _hated_ her so much-

“You’re quite the viper today, aren’t you?”

Ava didn’t reply, this time having to physically bite her tongue.

“Fine, fine, whatever – let’s see what balance you owe me. It’s not like I paid to save your life and give you a new start or anything,” she reminded her none too subtly, and Ava’s eye went downcast to her shoes, and to the splotched carpet in the office.

“I know you did,” Ava replied quietly. “There’s no reason to remind me again.”

“When you keep acting like that there’s plenty of reason to remind you! Those medical bills still look bad on my credit. Why do you think I haven’t bought a better office yet?” She gestured to the small room around her with one hand as she typed something into her computer with the other. “Honestly Ava, you have no consideration for other people.”

Ava scowled.

“I heard about how you’ve been abusing my piano player – slamming his fingers in the slot? That’s almost brutal, girl.”

She prickled that Wrathia had been examining her that closely.

“I think you should march yourself right back over to the bar and apologize to his face, treating my hired hand like that.”

Ava’s eyes snapped open and she blurted “Why are you stalling?”

Wrathia’s eyes flashed sharply – Ava hit the nail on the head. “Excuse me?”

“You’re buying time.” Her hands were shaking again, so she squeezed the palm down over her knees. “You’re stalling. How much do I owe you?”

Wrathia snarled “You are really something else to accuse me of-”

“How much do I owe?”

Ava’s voice had somehow grown sharper and more lethal in the breath it had taken her to ask the question. It cut through the air and seemed to threaten Wrathia with its deadly edge, making the woman sweat bullets.

She looked away and picked at her nails more. “Fine. Only about a thousand.”

Ava felt her stomach do a summersault. The world began to fill with helium, and she felt light – euphoric. Her mind was buzzing as though a hundred fuzzy bumblebees were dancing with happiness in her head.

“Only… a thousand…?”

That was three, maybe four paychecks. That was another two months of work, if she paid rent in advance and lived like a college student.

Or maybe just a week of work if she threw in her savings.

Ava stood up, the seat shooting out from behind her knees and clattering against the wall. “No interest, no hidden fees – that’s the whole thing? The whole debt that’s left?”

Wrathia nodded- and Ava realized that’s why she was stalling, and that’s why she was so prepared to manipulate Ava to leave – because she was losing income when she paid her debts off, and Wrathia would no longer have a slave to work her bar.

“Yes, that’s it. Now get out of my office you little pest. I have work to do.”

Ava bolted out, trying to hold in her laughter – but it bubbled up and over, boiling in her chest until it spilled across the edges of her face in a smile as she ran her fingers through her hair.

She had been paying off that debt since her parents died – and now she was almost free. She could see the finishing line, and she would sprint to the end.

For a moment she was tempted to come into work anyway, but she remembered that this was her day off, and she was planning on treating herself accordingly.

She had a lot to celebrate.

OoooO

Odin realized he had no idea how much he relied on Ava’s presence in the bar.

The flash of the fire in her hair, her smile, the low chit chat of her voice as she spoke with the good customers – and he didn’t want to admit it, but the way she moved against the dulling yellow lights, her hands deft and the slender nape of her neck exposed was something he couldn’t complain about either.

But more importantly, she was maybe the only person he could call a friend in this whole town, and he had come to rely and depend on her as a source of guidance and companionship.

For a second he glared at himself, remembering that they were practically strangers – she probably though he was just another employee – but he was really beginning to note the lack of her presence.

Without warning, his phone vibrated against his thigh and he almost ruined the song he was playing. Luckily, he was almost done when his phone chimed, so he finished up and fished it out of his pocket.

He recoiled at who it was.

“…N-Nanezgani?”

“ _What the hell, ‘ **N** -Nanezgani,’ what are you, five? Still learning how to talk like people?_” The guttural sandpaper of his voice could be heard even through the phone. Odin regretted giving the debt collector his number, as he could harass him at the most inopportune moments – like now – and remind him ruefully of the debt, as though to make sure Odin couldn’t get too comfortable.

“Wh-Why are you c-calling me up,” Odin asked, exasperated “I’m al-almost done paying off your debt.”

“… _Almost done? You really think you’re almost done_?”

There was a cruelty in his voice that made Odin’s stomach creep with anxiety, nervous fish swimming up and down his spine. “Y-Yeah, I only h-have another th-three hundred to go, right?”

“ _Three hundred… add seven hundred more to that_.”

The world turned to static and Odin felt his chest go tight. He didn’t feel like he was the one speaking. “I s-still have a thousand to go?” He was barely paid a hundred every two weeks for this lousy piano job, and more than two-thirds went to renting out the apartment and giving himself food.

He would have to spend another five months here to pay the debt off.

The world was shimmering and grey, like the inside of a snowflake. Pedri’s laughter across the phone was muffled in comparison to the ringing in his ears.

“ _I called you up because I have a date tonight, so I shouldn’t be bothered until tomorrow afternoon. You’d better get started on your debt, Odin…_ ” the line went dead and Odin almost dropped the phone from his hand.

Why did he owe more?

…interest. Of course. Of _course_ Pedri would pull something like that. He’d loved to tear apart Odin’s family, even if he had paid Magpie’s medical bills – and for what? To have him stay in a ghost town until he faded into the wallpaper, and his family forgot about him?

This place was for people at the end of their ropes, and the reality of that hit Odin hard enough to make him stagger out from behind the piano.

As he looked up, he thought of Magpie, and how he had promised to pay off the debts – how he had promised that he would make it up to Mister Nanezgani and be home soon, and the hope on her face only rivaled the roses of health in her cheeks, and the memory was enough to make him choke back a sob.

Olai would be pissed – but for once, not at Odin. Although the two were never too close, Odin was still family, and there would still be a hollowness where he was gone. He couldn’t provide for his family while he was trapped here.

That’s what this place was, a trap.

Luckily, it was also a bar.

Odin slumped against one of the spinning stools, and shakily ordered a shot of vodka.

As he put the glass to his lips, he tried to blot out the echoes of Pedri’s laughter from his mind.

OoooO

Ava was sitting on her bed, eating out of an icecream tub with a spoon. Now, this was a celebration.

She was idly watching random shows – nothing of particular interest, but she liked to just relax anyway. Her phone vibrated, almost slipping off the nightstand, and she snatched it before it could make the faithful leap.

It was Gev. “Hey, what’s up?” He knew it was her day off, right?

“ _Ava, I really need your help over here_.”

“I thought you couldn’t handle the drinks yourself.”

“ _No, no that’s not it – Odin got a shady phone call and he just got over the top_ smashed _. I think he’s about to get in a fight with a table, please come help_!”

Ava blinked owlishly. “Why call me up?”

“ _Aren’t you two friends?”_

“Oh.” She paused. “I guess. Give me a minute, I’ll come over.”

She slipped her shoes back on and jogged over to the bar – she hadn’t realized how much time had passed with her leisurely watching television. The sun was already nearing its slope down the horizon, and a few clouds gathered at the edges of the light, making the sky darken with deep indigos and spilling pinks.

The bar was already lit up, and as she pressed her palm to the door she heard a crash.

Ava rushed in to see Odin lifting a chair above his head – he was aiming for the piano. Ava dashed forward and slammed her face into his ribcage, wrapping her arms around his torso and tackling him to the ground. He made a choking noise and they both fell to the ground.

Ava’s hair was everywhere, and it fell onto Odin’s face as she leaned over him on the ground and demanded “What are you doing?!”

“Th-That fuckin’… th-thing – I c-can’t do th-this shit,” he slurred, his eyes hard – but there was a hardness to his voice that was brittle, as though if there was too much pressure then he would crumble.

“What happened?” she questioned instead, trying to decipher his expressions. His mouth twisted and his jaw clenched – his was trembling underneath her. His face was flushed a deeper color from his intoxication, and his breath was hot and smelled sweet.

His voice cracked when he spoke. “I o-owe t-too much. I… ca-can’t go home. M-My debt…” and Ava didn’t stop him when he covered his eyes with his arm, trying to block out the tears that slipped across his eyelashes.

She looked around to the other patrons, who watched them both with avid interest – it was a sight to see with Ava sitting on top of Odin, and her face flushed.

“What, like staring? Mind your own business or I’m doubling all your tabs.” They all looked away, but there was a string of knowing that tugged on the back of her mind – they were still listening.

She picked herself up. “Come on, Odin.”

“I d-don’t wanna go to – to my sh-shitty apartment.”

“Then we won’t go to your apartment. Let’s just go to the back room for a little bit, okay?”

He removed his arm from his face, and his eyes were puffy. He exhaled shakily and sat up, mumbling “okay,” under his breath, and he didn’t pull away when Ava led him around the counter to the back. He kicked the mop bucket as they passed, and she rolled her eyes. He was staggering badly – Gev wasn’t kidding.

She sat him down on a stack of empty pallets and she flipped an empty wooden beer box over to sit on. “Look, we’re alone now, and we’re not in your apartment.”

He was looking at the floor, his black hair tossed wildly around his eyes.

“Odin, who called you? What happened?”

He sucked in a breath, but his voice warbled. “I g-got a c-call from my d-debt collector, and I th-thought… I th-thought I had only a f-few hundred dollars to go, but… I d-don’t. Th-There’s a l-lot left – and I pr-promised my sisters I’d be h-h-home soon.” His voice began to crack again and Ava placed a hand on his arm, and it was cool to the touch.

“I-It’s not f-fair,” he finally choked, putting his hands over his eyes.

Ava thought for a moment. She didn’t want to preach and say that everything would be okay, when he obviously had a lot to lose by being here, but maybe she could offer a parcel of wisdom to his drunken state. “I think its better, not to have things be fair,” she replied gently. “Imagine if we got everything we deserved – then there’d be no pity in the world.”

He looked back at her with puffy eyes and those sharp black eyelashes, and she had to make her heart shut up as he asked “D-D you p-pity me?”

“I sympathize,” she responded. “I have a debt too, remember?”

He nodded a little before looking back at his knees. For a long moment, it was nothing but their combined breathing – Odin smelled sickly sweet and of cigarettes, and for a second Ava thought he was going to fade away like the other ghosts in the bar. He clumsily pulled out the ring from under his shirt and rubbed it idly.

“I’m sorry about your debt,” Ava offered, tilting her head a little to look him in the face. He smiled, but it was a weak and paltry thing, more of bitterness than of gratitude, and it was enough to make Ava’s chest ache.

“I sh-should have _eh_ …ex—expected this, t-to be hon-n-nest,” he muttered, words slurring. “B-But I w-was b-being too op-op-optim-mistic, in-instead of b-being a cynic. I sh-should h-have seen this c-coming.”

“It’s not a bad thing to be an optimist,” Ava noted, keeping her eyes on the heaviness of his shoulders, how they slumped.

“A-Are you an op-optimist?”

She looked away, towards the long hall that would bring them both to the bar if they were to walk it. “No, I-” and she remembered that her debt was finishing and she was on the last stretch, and a smile blossomed as she continued “-well, sometimes. Not usually, though.”

“I l-like your sm-smile,” he murmured. Ava blinked and looked back at Odin – his face was leaned against his hand and he was watching her with a lazy interest. “Mmn. R-Reminds me of M-Magpie’s, but d-different.”

Ava forcefully reminded herself that he was drunk and his smile was not really for her, it was for the memory of whoever this Magpie was – yet the blush still crept along her face. “Magpie?”

“M-My s-sister. Little s-sister. Got r-really sick a f-few years ago…” he rubbed his face and squinted, as though his memories were faraway “…hadda take her t-to th’ h-hospital… W-We didn’t h-have the m-money to p-pay, so I we-went and g-got us a l-loan from a sh-shady fuckass wh-who’s been bl-bleedin’ my f-family for dough ever s-since.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied softly. He was really talkative when he was drunk. “That’s horrible.”

“Th-That’s life.”

“That doesn’t make it any less bad, Odin.”

“You… wh-why’re are you s’nice t-to me?” He looked down at his hands. “I’ve b-been like, th’ b-biggest… d-douche… ass… pe- _person_ to y-you and y-you still… you’re h-helping me. Wh-Why?”

She reached out and settled her hand on his, and he jumped from the contact.

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

OoooO

Odin didn’t know why the sudden contact of her hand against his made his heart lurch, or why he was even still talking, but he was and he felt like a fool for not shutting his mouth and talking to Ava about his stupid problems.

He wasn’t even sure if it was him talking or the alcohol, but he was pretty sure it was himself without a filter because he couldn’t stop staring at her face.

“Y-Yeah,” his voice felt tight and sloppy “we – we-we’re friends.”

And he was being stupid, because when she stopped to blink at him and smile in validation of his words, he blurted “Y-You have p-pretty e-eyes, too…”

And she rolled those pretty brown eyes, her smile dampening as she stated “Odin, you’re drunk.”

He frowned. “Y-Yeah. Olai w-would h-h-have my h-head if h-he found out, s-so don’t… don’t t-tell him.”

“To be fair, Odin,” she casually reminded “I don’t know who Olai is. And you already told me about Magpie, so you don’t have to if-”

“You d-don’t wanna kn-know?” He stared up at her, and she blinked a few times – she suddenly wet her lips and he became hyperaware of her mouth.

“I – I guess I do, but, you’re not in your right mind now, Odin. What if you tell me something you’ll regret telling me later? I think for now you should-”

His mouth was moving. “I w-won’t.”

“What?”

“I w-won’t re-re-regret t-telling you.” He sounded so assured of himself, and he didn’t know why. This was a bad idea – but she was sitting there, and in the hollow center of his chest there was a certainty that she wouldn’t hurt him.

“You don’t know that,” she continued with the shake of her head, imploring him to stop talking. Her hair danced across his eyesight and it dazzled him for a moment.

“T-To be hon-honest, I l-like talking around you,” he confessed with a small smile, eyes half lidded. “Y-You know, b-back in sch-school, I tr-tried to ask a g-girl out. B-But I w-was st-st-stuttering s-so bad th-that I g-gave up and d-didn’t t-talk f-for th-the rest of th-the semester. No one n-noticed,” he reminisced “b-but when I c-came into th-this b-bar, you d-demanded th-that I t-talk, and r-reply, and in-int-i-interact. L-Like wh-what I had t-to say m-mattered.”

“It does,” and her voice was so gentle that he looked back at their clasped hands. She hadn’t let go yet, and he liked the feeling of her palm on his. It was warm, and comforting. “I wish we had known each other back in school,” she whispered.

“Y-You would h-have noticed,” he decided, as though that was fact. Ava didn’t say anything, but she looked up at him, eyes tracing along his face – until they settled at his collarbone.

Curious, he looked down, and spotted his mother’s ring, hanging snugly. “Th-This b-belonged to m-my momma,” he grinned, words still slurring as he held it up for her to see. She nodded, looking at the delicate design. “Sh-She g-gave it to me, t-to k-keep. I-Its expensive, a-and I c-could sell it t-to pay o-off the d-debt, but I’m t-too attached t-to it.”

“Where’s your mom now?” she asked, glancing from the ring to his face.

A pang of sadness echoed through him – an old wound, still sore. “Sh-She p-passed away a l-l-long ti-time ago.”

She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He dropped the ring back against his shirt. “S’ok,” he muttered. “What ab-about your f-folks?”

“They died in a car accident,” she replied in a neutral tone, not showing any emotion – but there was a flicker to her eyes that showed her mask of apathy slipped a little.

“Sorree,” he mumbled, still looking at her face. They stared at the other for a moment, until Ava’s face began to glow with a blush and she squeaked “What are you staring at?”

“Y-You,” he replied, and there was a smirk to his mouth when he added “y-you’re worth st-staring at.”

Ava blinked owlishly, before she pouted. “Still drunk, Odin. Not gonna fool me.”

He grinned. “O-oh, y-yeah?” He reached forward and swept the fine red hairs out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. She didn’t pull away, but he could feel the heat of her face on his palm as he settled it on her cheek.

She was beautiful, and he wasn’t sure when he had begun to see that red hair as a comfort, or the bite in her tone as protective, but right now all he wanted to do make her feel just as secure as she made him feel. She held her breath as he leaned in, and she smelled sweet and light – her eyes flickered shut as he leaned forward, and she sucked in a breath when his nose brushed hers-

-and Odin knew nothing but darkness.

OoooO

Ava blinked and exhaled forcefully as Odin slumped over onto her lap, completely passed out.

He was drunk, and she shouldn’t have let him even try to kiss her – but he was familiar, and the cocky grin he had given her made her heart beat harder than it should have, and the validation that he thought so highly of her was still running through her veins, making her hands shake.

“You are such an ass,” she muttered, but he only mumbled a few things into her lap, warbled words. His hair was a mess, and he smelled of alcohol.

She carefully set him aside, draping him along the boxes to sleep for a bit. She doubted he would awaken fully sober, but the sleep would do him good.

Ava raked her fingers through her hair in frustration. She knew drunkards were fickle, but he was raging one minute and flirting the next.

Pulling on her apron, she decided to work for the few remaining hours until Odin woke up.

She wasn’t sure how many times she kept ducking off to make sure he hadn’t woken up yet, checking up on him as he slept sloppily on some boxes – but it was enough times that the locals began to chuckle amongst themselves, because their tender jackrabbit had found her solace in the wolfish piano player, and there seemed to be no better irony at the time.

The hours began to whittle away – Tuls leaned forward at the bar, asking softly “We heard that you would soon be retired from Miss Bellarmina’s business… is that true?” There was a touch of regret in his tone.

Ava was wiping down the counter, and she faltered for a moment. “Yeah, it’s true. I’ve almost paid off my debt.” There was a cacophony of protests from the shadows and the empty husks, bouncing off the walls like light off mirrors, filling the room. “Hey,” she put her hands up “I can’t stay here forever! I’ve got plans, you know!”

“Like what?” one shadow asked, silhouette sharp against the window.

Ava opened her mouth, prepared to reply with a thousand dreams and a million unspoken thoughts-

-only to find them choked in her throat.

They were dreams, unrealistic and idyllic, nothing really convincing – what were her plans? Why had she been paying off her debt all this time, if she had no idea what to do?

Her plan was to leave, and it seemed petty in the yellow light, surrounded by alcohol and past recollections of old ideals shattered.

This bar was a graveyard of dreams, and the moment she came to terms with her silly fantasies, she realized she had been digging a hole for them all along.

As the silence drew on a little longer, her chest beginning to seize and tighten to an almost painful extent, she heard a muffled groan and a thud from the back. Odin wandered out to the front, cupping his hand over his eyes against the light and blearily announcing “I f-feel l-like I g-got h-hit by a tr-train… m-made of al-alcohol.” As though to mock him, the pearly train found it fit to pass by in that moment, sending vibrations through the floor and clinking the glasses together. Odin cupped his hands over his ears and growled, his face flushed – he was still a little drunk, and horribly hungover.

Ava stifled a laugh, and when he began to wander towards the door she asked “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“D-Drivin’ home.”

“Not like that you’re not,” she chastised, coming around the counter and tossing her apron on the top “you’ll get in a car crash and kill somebody like that.”

“W-ell,” he drew the word out, dramatically throwing his hands up “wh-what sh-should I d-do, sleep on th-the bar?”

She came up to him and curled her fingers around his forearm. “What you do is walk home, piano man,” she laughed affectionately. He murmured something she couldn’t distinguish from his breathing. “Come on, I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”

“Don’t w-wanna g-go there,” he slurred, shaking his head.

“What? Why not?”

“It’s…s-sad.”

She recalled that he hadn’t been planning on staying in town for that long, but his debt demanded he do just that. She wondered how empty the apartment was, and how lonely it must have felt for someone used to a family – and the words escaped her lips before she had thought them.

“Then I’ll take you to my place.”

The drunkards whooped and she shot them a steely glare as though she was using her mind to unscrew bolts, and they silenced themselves.

“Is th-that… ok-okay?” he asked, unsure, rubbing at his face.

“Its fine, you can crash until tomorrow,” she reassured, pulling them both out the door. The night greeted them sweetly, and Ava tried not to think about the gangs that crept in the shadows. Her fingers tightened around his arm, and she whispered “We have to be fast, okay?”

“Wh-Why?”

“People like to stick to the shadows, and drag you in if you’re too slow,” she whispered as they began to half jog through the alleyways and decrepit sidewalks. “We gotta be quick.”

Odin seemed to know the severity of safety on the dark and damp streets of a foreign city, so he listened to her and they managed to weave out into the open streets without being seen or dragged off by the violent poltergeists of the town.

She smiled at him, a small gush of wind tousling her hair, and she didn’t know what to think of the darkening bush that crept over his gaunt cheekbones.

OoooO

Odin had a lot to say, like _why are there gangs in this town_ , or _isn’t there a safer route than this_ , but when they made it to the open streets she smiled – and his heart struggled to keep up with him.

Her hair was still so bright, even in the night, and it made a sharp outline of her form against the surrounding darkness he had become accustomed to. Her smile was a little crooked and her eyes shone like sweet cinders in the midnight coolness.

He wanted to kiss her.

But he had tried once, right? And he had messed it up by completely falling unconscious on her lap. _Classy move_ , he sarcastically bit to himself, trying to tame the wild beast of his heard, beating against the cage of his ribs.

“My house isn’t incredible, telling you now,” she warned “but driving _drunk_ , Odin?”

“I’m… not drunk,” he lied, rubbing at his eyes and trying not to make eye contact. She scoffed and turned away, but her hand was still on his arm pulling him along, and it was warm to the touch in the cool night. Was she ever cold, he wondered, or did she just get fiery with her fury?

“Okay, here we are!”

Odin looked up, and he froze in place.

The building they were walking towards seemed ready for any killer to be lurking in the shadows, ready to strangle the bright light that was Ava Ire.

“Th-This is wh-where you l-live?” he asked incredulously. Windows were broken, wood was rotting, and there was a heaviness that dripped of the building and made him feel slow with anxiety.

“Just follow my lead,” she quipped, and he followed her into the abyss. There was little in the way of furniture, and it was cold in most of the rooms. There was some items that were covered in plastic, others that had succumbed to time and deteriorated.

How did someone like Ava live here? It was a big house, but it was so empty.

She led him through the achingly vacant house, explaining “I used to dream about fixing the place up, and filling every room with friends and family, so that there wasn’t a light off in any room, but… the debt eventually took up all my time.”

Odin already didn’t like the house. It was a sudden and painful reminder of what he would have to live with, in the next few months. In his home back in the woods, there was always someone in the bathroom, always someone getting a snack from the kitchen or playing the TV too loud.

Ava was completely alone, and realizing that made his chest throb.

They came to one room and she tossed the door open. There was a rush of warmth, and the room was filled with a gentle light.

Stepping in, he realized this was _her_ room. She had a small heater plugged into the wall, and she had lined the corners of her room with Christmas lights.

This room was at the center of the house, and Odin felt like he was looking at the heart of the whole town. Her bed was a conglomerate of various blankets and pillows – there was a few stuffed animals on the floor next to a laundry pile. “There’s an armchair in the living room if you want to sleep there,” she suggested “but this is the only room with carpet if you’re feeling too hungover to sleep upright.”

As his eyes scanned the room, they settled on an eerie puncture in the wall, as though someone had plowed it with a sledgehammer a few times. “Wh-Whazzat fr-from?”

She looked away. “…I got mad one day. Doesn’t matter, anyway let me get a blanket for you.” She left the room, almost rushing out, and in his mildly intoxicated state, Odin wandered to the wall and felt along it. She had hit it more than once, more than one time, and he was disturbed to find a few brown spots with what must have been dried blood.

There was more than this hit, too, he realized. All up and down the wall – he had just failed to see it with the bright lighting.

As he felt along the wall, he accidentally bumped into her dresser, and he turned to look at it. There were various knick knacks on it – a small ceramic rabbit, a sinister looking key that she used to unlock the front door, a journal – but what caught his eye was the box. It was wooden, and carved. It reminded him of home somehow, this little item, and he realized the top was made of two plates of glass, and pressed between them dried poppies. Curious, he opened it up, wondering what treasures lie in wait.

It was filled with money.

Odin hastily clamped it shut and blinked owlishly. There was rolls of money, carefully counted – and to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he opened it again, cautiously.

Nope, the money was still there.

Carved into the inner lid of the box sloppily, not by the same hand that whittled out the flowers on the front, were the words “train money”.

Had Ava been saving money to escape on the train? Was this her savings?

He heard her coming back and shut the lid, turning around and trying to look neutral. She threw the blankets to him and he fumbled to catch them, still in shock about her secret savings. He also noticed she was wearing pajamas.

“Th-Thanks for l-letting me stay,” he murmured, holding the blankets to his chest. They smelled sweet, like she did.

“Just go get some rest, piano man,” she smiled, pulling her hair over her shoulder. He began to step out but stopped.

“H-Hey, Ava?”

“Hmn?” she was brushing her hair out, turning around to cast him a wide eyed look.

“Wh-Who’s house w-was this, be-before you g-got it?”

“My parents.”

He wanted to ask – would it be wrong to ask? He was going to ask. Maybe he wouldn’t, he was hungover and yet half drunk – but he couldn’t help it.

“Wh-What’s your debt?”

Ava stopped brushing her hair, setting the comb aside and sitting down on the edge of her bed. She was silent for a long moment, and Odin carefully reentered the room, still holding the blankets, and sat next to her.

“Medical debt,” she replied softly. “I was in the same car crash that my parents were in. Our car was hit by a drunk driver.”

Her sudden desire to make sure he didn’t drive settled as a sour knot in his stomach. His mouth tasted bitter.

“I’m s-sorry,” he apologized clumsily. She shrugged – her hair draped over her pajamas, and he could see the pinkness of her bare shoulders. He suddenly spotted scarring along her arms, some old and others new, mottling the skin. Some scars were flat, others twisted and puffy, and he asked “A-Are th-those scars from th-the accident?”

There was a beat of silence. “No.”

Ava was like the room – she was so bright he hadn’t seen the damage done because he was so entirely dazzled.

“I’m s-sorry,” he apologized again, seeing the tiredness to her eyes. “I d-didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay,” she reassured quietly. He felt like it wasn’t, looking at those scars, but he had no place to chastise – he was a drunk in her house, which she had invited him into out of the goodness of her heart.

“C-Can I sl-sleep in here,” he asked “its w-warmer.”

“Yeah.”

He settled down on the floor, listening to Ava settled on her own bed and flick out the light. Her room smelled like flowers and honey aftertaste, clinging eagerly to the back of his throat. He was surprised to find that even though he felt dizzy laying completely still, there was a peace in this room he couldn’t feel in his apartment. It wasn’t like when his sisters were sleeping with him after a nightmare, or the peace in the cool night when he watched the sun set.

He felt this peace at graveyards, and that realization made him tense up, the relief broken. He hastily turned to look where Ava was sleeping on her bed, and his throat seized thinking about the loneliness of this place, of the shadows that must have haunted her – yet she still slept, and still went to work each day, and helped drunk friends.

Odin couldn’t help but slowly look back at the box. He didn’t know how much money was in there, but it was significant – what would she be doing with it? Wasting it on that train ride? Money like that could pull him out of his debt.

That thought hadn’t occurred to him, and maybe it was because he was lacking in sober attitude, but he stared at the box.

He could, potentially, just take the money and run. Pay off the debt and leave, never see Ava again and leave the ghost town and its strange inhabitants.

The thought was tempting, but Ava… He turned to look back at her, laying on her bed, steadily breathing.

He shouldn’t care, they aren’t that close – but he laid back down anyway and bit his tongue for being foolish. Bringing himself as low as petty thievery to pay off his debt, he must have been getting desperate. Ava was his friend, too, and he had been willing to stoop that low. Maybe he was more drunk than he had thought.

“Can’t sleep?”

He jumped. She wasn’t asleep at all.

“Y-Yeah, headache…” he muttered, hoping she hadn’t realized he had been eyeing what must have been her savings. He cleared his throat and nervously asked “S-So… h-how much d-do you h-have left of y-your debt?”

“Only a thousand,” she replied sleepily.

“Wha-? O- _Only_ a th-thousand?” He had the same amount, but she seemed so leisurely with her burden. She sat up on her bed and flicked on a nearby lamp, dim enough to not hurt his eyes.

“Yeah…? I had a lot more of it when I started out. Looking where I’m at now, I can get rid of this debt in no time.”

That nettled Odin sorely, digging into the bitterness that Pedri had planted in his stomach. He didn’t want to talk, he was going to do something rash, but the filter for his mouth was gone and the pain was spreading. “S-So,” he looked away “a-and th-then what? Y-You gonna sk-skip town?”

“Yeah, I am. This place… I don’t wanna stay here. But there’s gotta be something out there for me, right? Other than a place like this?”

“I don’t kn-know,” he blurted, crossing his arms. “M-Maybe.”

Ava exhaled sharply through her nose. “Hey, what’s your problem? You brought it up.”

“W-Well, I don’t kn-know,” he admitted, that bitterness still bleeding into his arms and throat “M-Maybe it’s b-because you’re s-so close to f-finishing up y-your debt and I’m n-not.”

She dangled her feet off the edge of the bed. “What, like that’s my fault? I’m not trying to belittle your efforts, Odin, just because we’re at different points in our debts-“

The sincerity of her voice made it worse somehow. “Y-You don’t even h-have any re-reason to pay off your debts,” he snapped “you d-don’t even h-have a family.”

The bitterness in his chest cooled to regret almost instantly.

Ava was staring at him, eyes wide. For a moment tears gathered, barely pooling over, and Odin choked.

“I… I d-didn’t-”

_“How dare you.”_

It seemed, Ava Ire _could_ be cold, when the occasion called for it.

“How _dare_ you come into my home and tell me that I have _no_ reason to be free of this… _burden_.” She stood, and Odin realized he was in her territory, and she was making that painfully clear as she neared him, hands balled into tight fists and eyes streaking, barely, with tears. “Just because you have a family doesn’t mean you’re worth more than me! It doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to treat me like I’m some, some stupid girl!”

Odin scrambled to his feet, but the height difference barely did anything to stop her intimidation.

“At least you got to choose to find a loan,” she barked, pressing him backwards until his back hit the wall “you got to choose!”

“I w-wasn’t g-gonna let my s-sister die,” he muttered, trying not to spur on her well-deserved anger any further.

“I didn’t _asked_ to be saved,” she snarled “I didn’t _ask_ to stay alive while everyone else died!”

The house was a graveyard, and Ava the gravekeeper. Odin didn’t realize she was tending to the gravestones of her own kin by living here.

“I didn’t ask to be alone, I didn’t ask for this debt, and I _certainly_ -” she jabbed him in the chest with her finger “-didn’t ask to be criticized by some drunkard that can’t handle a little pressure!”

Odin didn’t know what to say. What could he say? She had shown him the soft parts of her heart and in return he had poisoned them out of his own bitterness.

She was glaring, eyes bright with a fatal fury that burned and twisted in a way he couldn’t know. Her jaw was set, and her face was slowly darkening from anger.

“I d-didn’t-”

She turned around, her shoulders stiff and her entire body ridged. In the dim light, her hair looks like it was frothing, reaching, curling like it was in pain. “Just go.”

He wet his lips. “I-”

“GO!” Ava spun around and smashed her fist against the wall, bits of debris scattering over her face and a sickening crack echoing through the room. It was a warning and a testament to her strength - Odin wanted to try and quell this fury, but it was bigger than him, and more overwhelming than he could have imagined.

Gev’s warning about not making her mad seemed to have come too late to his realization as Odin threw the door open and stumbled out, the world still swimming.

What hurt the most wasn’t that she had yelled, that she had taken her fury out on the wall nearest to him, not even that she was completely right.

What hurt the most was that when he closed the front door behind him, he could barely hear muffled sobs from her room.

OoooO

Ava sat on her bed, hugging her blanket and trying to strangle the sobs out of her.

She was just trying to do the right thing. She was just trying her best and look out for herself. Was that wrong? Why did he get mad? It wasn’t like she wanted this debt, or to be more savvy at paying it off than him.

It wasn’t like she wanted to be alone.

It wasn’t like she wanted the ghosts of the past to constantly remind her of her painful solitude.

Ava wept into her blanket.

She didn’t know why she was paying off her debt. For one, the simple thought was that she didn’t want to be tethered to Wrathia anymore, and to be free from her slavery. But after that, what? What could she do?

She was mediocre at everything she attempted. The only reason she was good at the bar job was because of consistency and patterns, not because she had a knack for it. She didn’t have a talent for anything, really. She had wasted years at this bar job, and now she had no experience, and no future, and apparently no friends or family.

Isolation had never hit her harder. The piano man had played the sour keys of her heart too well, too easily, and she felt foolish for opening her door to the big bad wolf.

Was her loneliness so overpowering that she would let even danger in through the door? Was she that desperate for any companionship?

Ava’s hands hurt. She had hit the wall more times than she had meant to, and now the skin of her knuckles was raw, and the pads of her hands stung from slapping the wall after her hands began to go limp from punching it.

What a useless and pathetic thing she was. Where had her adoration for the future gone? The wolf ate it, and the jackrabbit was left with nothing but her pelt to show she existed.

Ava cried into her blanket, her hair setting fire to her shoulders.

OoooO

Odin didn’t know what to expect from the next work day. His head throbbed terribly, but so did his heart, and as he sat down at the piano stool, he waited anxiously for Ava to come in. Gev was opening, and so Odin toggled with the keys a little, waiting.

He wanted to apologize. It had been so cruelly unfair of him to haggle her like that, and to take out his internal aggression on her – especially when she had so much baggage to carry already. She had let him into her home, and he had assured her that they were friends. Some friend he was if he was willing to use her like a verbal punching bag.

Minutes passed.

Odin began playing a simple tune, trying to watch the door at the same time.

Minutes passed.

The song spun into something more complicated as the surreal shadow veterans stepped through the door, gathering for a drink.

It was stupid of him to even get drunk in the first place.

Minutes fattened into hours, being fed on every inch of Odin’s anxiety.

He played another song and took a break, fingers stiff from anxiety. He turned to look at the counter, seeing smudged and ghostly forms all getting a drink.

One of them had red hair.

His heart dropped, and Odin leapt to his feet, pushing a chair aside to get to the counter.

The redheaded living ghost turned to look at him, and he could barely make out puffy eyes, and her pursed mouth.

“Ava…?”

She spoke, but he couldn’t understand the words.

“I n-need to t-talk with y-you,” he blurted “n- _now_ , please.”

The ghostly form set a glass down, and with a wraith like smoothness wandered to the back room. Odin followed, but he leaned forward and grasped onto her arm.

She turned to look at him, but her face was indistinguishable from the shadows.

What had he done?

“A-Ava, if I… If I s-said s… ss-s… s-something apologetic,” he finally exhaled “th-that would… sum u-up how I f-felt.” The ghost was looking at him but he couldn’t see her eyes. His pride faltered over the heartache that beat so resiliently in his chest. “I’m s-sorry, Ava… I sh-shouldn’t have sa-said those th-things to y-you. Th-That was wr-wrong, and I w-was wrong.” He looked up at her smudged face and tensed up.

She didn’t say anything.

“Ava?”

She sat down on the same crate they had sat at yesterday. When she finally spoke, her voice was bleary, and warped, as though he was listening to her underwater. “You were right,” she sighed, and it was the creaking of a tree settling in place, of a great weight becoming permanent.

“No, no I was wr- _wrong_ ,” he squatted down and held her hands in his. It felt like he was holding ice. “Y-You’ve g-got a lot t-to str-trive for, y-your de-debt isn’t an-any less s-serious th-than mine.”

“Then… why do I feel so lonely?” He knew that she was looking away, but Ava Ire was quickly succumbing to the broken and buried dreams of this place. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t stand seeing her as one of these lifeless, drunk husks that wandered around. He doubted he could actually live through that.

“I-It’s okay,” he muttered “it’s ok-okay to be l-lonely.”

“But what if I don’t want to be? I don’t want to be lonely. I don’t want to be useless. I can’t find my future,” she mumbled, looking down, squeezing his hands.

“Th-Then I’ll h-help you f-find it,” he promised, trying to find the odd quirk in her mouth, the twist in her brow, anything – “I’ll h-help you.”

She was quiet.

He didn’t want this. Why had he been so cruel? He didn’t realize how much she had meant to him, and how easily he could hurt her.

“I’ll dr-drive you h-home tonight,” he promised “a-and we’ll talk this out.”

If she could talk at all.

The minutes stretched into hours, and even though she was sitting right there, Odin could not find Ava.

OoooO

Ava’s heartache was beginning to eat at her. It was making a home where she used to put her future plans, it was poisoning what hopes she had left for the future. Was there even a point to working anymore? She was going to die with this debt, or on some strange street because she tried to leave and found the rest of the world to be too big to handle.

Odin had apologized, but the damage had been done. You couldn’t drink out of a broken cup. The rabbit had already been slaughtered – she had not been fast enough to escape the maw of the musical wolf.

Gev tapped on her shoulder. “Closing time.”

She hadn’t noticed. Putting her things down, she didn’t even think about cleaning up. She’d do that in the morning.

Ava stepped out into the darkness of the night, and began slowly walking home. There was no point in rushing, she didn’t have anywhere to be –but Odin’s promise came back to her in piecemeal. Did she want to ride with him? What did his car even smell like?

Did it smell like him, smoke and cool pinetrees, buried in the shadows? She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she wanted to know, only that the thought has occurred to her and now she was lacking in knowledge about the beautiful, terrible wolf that had eaten her heart.

There was a rustling behind her, and Ava remembered why she used to run through these alleyways.

OoooO

Odin turned on his car, the headlights coming on. They caught a flash of fire, and he looked up, startled.

Ava was surrounded.

_“People like to stick to the shadows, and drag you in if you’re too slow,”_ she had said.

There were strange men on every side of her, and Odin could make out every line of fear on her face as her eyes widened and her hands came to her chest, flashing white from bandages he couldn’t make out before.

The path had never been clearer – he floored it, the car screaming as it jolted forward.

They all turned, the gang and Ava alike. The gang members scattered, but Ava only stared at the headlights, frozen in place. Odin swore lightly and twisted, skidding the car sideways – it narrowly missed Ava, leaving a plume of foul smelling smoke from the burning tires.

He leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. “G-Get in!”

Ava clambered in and he didn’t waste a second in plowing down the street, running over a garbage can and spreading trash behind them as he sped out.

They bounced off the sidewalk as they hit the blacktop, and they almost ran into another car. Odin managed to swing the speeding car into a parking lot to the local store, and as the car came to a stop he finally exhaled.

“A-Are you ok-okay?”

Ava was holding her face in her hands.

“A-Ava?”

She slammed her palms against the dashboard. “Why can’t anything ever turn out okay?! I just wanted to go home! I just want to pay off my debts! I just want some friends! Am I asking for too much?!”

Her cheeks were flushing, alight with adrenaline, but this was more like the Ava he had come to befriend.

 “N-No, you’re not.”

“Then why? Why do people do this?”

“Be-Because people are bad,” Odin continued, staring at her tiny, frustrated form.

“I don’t think you’re bad!” she snapped, leaning over to snarl at him. He backed up a little, but considering they were in his cramped car, his head hit the window. She was startlingly close, and he could see the pull to her lips and she bared her teeth at him. “I just think you need to not take out your issues on other people!”

Odin couldn’t help smirking. “….s-says th-the girl y-yelling in m-my face…?”

She made a grunting half yell in frustration, but Odin smoothly grabbed her wrist before she could slam them against anything. “D-Don’t h-hurt yourself,” he growled quietly, eyes like slits.

She matched his glare with her own. “And why would you care, piano man?” But she didn’t pull away, and that made him bolder.

“Be-Because you’re my on-only friend in th-this whole graveyard of a t-town, and I al-already hurt y-you enough as is.”

Ava stopped and looked away, her breath fogging up the glass. He ran his thumbs down the tops of her wrists, feeling the softness of her skin.

“You can’t just fix this by saying sorry,” she murmured, and he could see her face flicker with pain, faded and worn, wallpaper peeling off old wood and the sound of a record skipping. This town was swallowing her up, and the end of the world was beginning to enclose around her. The flame was beginning to suffocate.

Odin wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – let that happen. “I kn-know, but… I w-want to t-try and m-make it r-right.”

Once again, Ava used silence as her loyal advocate, and he sighed, dropping her hands. “I’ll t-take you h-home.”

“That house isn’t my home.” Her words were laced with honesty.

The car was still idling, and it rumbled underneath them, as if reminding that they were supposed to go somewhere – Odin turned it off and the interior light flickered out. Ava’s outline could be seen against the lights of the supermarket, an off blue shrouded in blacks. Her skin looked off, more grey than pink, and she seemed ghostly, a specter of the living dead. She blinked and turned to him, and the movement startled him, for a moment ago he could have sworn he was staring at a statue.

“Wh-Where _is_ y-your home?”

The sound of shopping carts clattering against the others as people left with their groceries filled up the car, making him feel hollow and sick. He was looking at Ava, but she had gone somewhere else.

“I don’t know,” she finally relented. “I haven’t found it yet.”

Odin knew where his home was – it was buried in the mountains, shrouded in deep howls and the smell of mist in the cool early mornings. He could describe it as though he was there, and lacking in words he closed his eyes and did.

“M-My cabin has t-two stories. Th-The livingroom h-has a rocking chair and t-two couches – th-there’s an old TV th-that only works half of the time. Th-The kitchen counter has t-two gashes from O-Olai th-throwing cutting kn-knives for fun. Th-There’s a stepstool for th-the girls with a b-bad leg. Th-The bathroom mirror is c-cracked in the lower left cor-corner, wh-where I sl-slipped in the sh-shower and hit i-it w-with my elbow. M-My room h-has a bed, a dr-drawing desk, a-and a small pi-piano. Th-There’s sh-sheet music st-stapled to th-the walls. Magpie’s sh-sheet m-music is stapled a-above the piano.” He opened his eyes, now adjusted to the dark, and turned to Ava to see what she was doing, to see if what he was doing was somehow selfish and foolish, but he found her sitting in a reverent meditation, eyes closed and expression relaxed.

He leaned his face on his hand and continued, watching her. “Th-The a-attic h-has old paintings an-and boxes we-we’ve never opened. Th-The window is d-dusted sh-shut, and it sm-smells like old p-perfume. F-From there, you c-can look out an-and see th-the whole f-forest. I-It looks best in th-the early mornings, when its c-covered in f-fog and th-the birds are ju-just waking up. Ev-Everything l-looks like its un-underwater, and wh-when the sun c-comes up, f-for a moment, th-the fog l-looks like fire, a-and the forest is b-burning without any smoke.”

Ava’s lips barely upturned in a smile. “Do you like fire?”

He reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers across the tips of her hair. “V-Very much.” She didn’t open her eyes, but her mouth thinned and a blush colored her cheeks.

“W-We can g-go to m-my apartment, if y-you’d like.” She didn’t say anything more, but he understood the want for companionship but the inability to admit the pain of solitude.

He started the car, and felt a warmth press his ribs when Ava whispered “Thank you” into the dark of the car.

OoooO

Ava didn’t want to admit that Odin’s voice had begun to calm the raging storm of anxiety and self-loathing that had begun to crash the ships of celebration in her heart, but she was also unwilling to let him just leave, either.

She didn’t want to be alone, or to hold against him the cruel things he said to her.

He was sorry. He really was, the honesty and genuine concern that colored his tones made her unable to continue being mad at him – but the hurt was still spreading, and her fear for the future was still apparent in the way she thought about her savings box and homeless house.

Would it be better for her to stay here, in this town? She was so used to pain, that any change was frightening enough to make her flee back to her wire mother, clinging to what she was used to but what still hurt her.

What if it was worse, when she left? What if the only thing that lay in wait for her was a future far more painful than Wrathia’s dissection of her emotions? She couldn’t bear it.

Odin’s description of his home didn’t sound so bad, though. She doubted every home was as familiar and warm as his was, but it was enough to convince her that not every inch of the world outside was out to get her. She had also told herself that of Odin, that he wasn’t out to hurt her – and he wasn’t, but he still managed it.

She stared out the window, sighing, watching the glass fog up and the lights of the hollow town blur together.

The bar patrons were sad to see her go, too, or maybe they were just anxious about their fretting and fiery caretaker to be leaving. Either way, that meant that someone was going to remember her. Out in the world, would anyone remember her?

…Maybe Odin would.

She turned and looked at him, pursing her lips and settling her palm against her cheek. He was focused on the road, deep in thought – what was he thinking about? His black hair was tossed over his brow, paper thin skin showing an almost violent hue across his cheekbones and the ridge of his nose. His eyes were so clear and dark that she sighed a little.

He glanced to her. “Wh-What is it?”

“Does your family miss you? Remember you?”

He scoffed. “L-Like th-they could f-forget me. I d-don’t know if th-they miss me, b-but they be-better remember me. Oh shit, I b-bet Crow would pull th-that ‘oh n-no we d-don’t know y-you at all sir’ j-just to get un-under my skin.” The last comment was made just under his breath, and Ava hummed in response. “Wh-Why?”

“No reason.” He didn’t look happy about the answer, but didn’t press it, and that made her feel a little more secure.

“W-We’re coming to m-my place. It i-isn’t cl-clean, I w-wasn’t expecting vi-visitors, bu-but y-ye-y-yeah…” She looked up to spot the apartments, a conglomerate of beige rooms that were a sour yellow under the light of old bulbs. When they parked, Odin was quick to clamber out and rush around to open Ava’s door for her, and she felt silly and flattered at the same time.

Concrete stairs made her nervous –thoughts of falling and cracking her skull open were a very real possibility with her clumsiness – and he walked them to his room.

He unlocked the door and hesitated. “A-As I s-said, it’s not-”

“Odin, my house should be condemned. Don’t worry about it.”

He nodded nervously, and Ava realized the wolf was taking her to its home, its resting place – she held her breath when he opened the door.

It was a standard apartment, with a small counter kitchen and a bathroom off to the side. The livingroom and the bedroom were almost the same room, and she could see laundry scattered across the bed and half out of an old suitcase. He mumbled a few things to himself and was quick to rustle around the closet for a spare blanket.

Off in the corner was a small, cheap, piano. It was made of easily breakable wood, as though this instrument was one to buy from a yard sale, and she wandered over to it, feeling along the keys.

“Y-You can t-take the b-bed if you’d l-like, if you w-want to stay-” Odin faltered “-what is it?”

“Play for me?” she asked softly, looking at the piano.

“Y-You hear me a-at the bar, when I pl-play.”

“Yes,” she turned around and inclined her head, as though tilting could see past his hard façade and scruffy features “but it’s not the same as when you play from the heart. I can tell, you know.”

He shrugged and set the blanket down. “O-Okay, I’ll… I’ll play. B-But only if y-you sing along.”

She was startled by the deal. “What? I can’t sing as well as you play. And what if I don’t know the lyrics?” She moved aside as he neared, and he pulled his jacket off, throwing it at the kitchen counter. It missed and landed in a pathetic heap on the floor.

“Y-You’ll know th-the lyrics. And I l-like your voice.” He sat down and smile at her for a moment, and the gesture made her go tense and heat to rush even to the tips of her fingers, because that smile was for her, and this music would be for her, and all this was for her.

She swallowed and took a few steps back, fumbling for a chair. When she found the edge of an armchair, she slowly sank into it as Odin drummed his fingers along the keys.

After a moment, a song began. It was high and upbeat, flickering in and out of the sun and summer skies – it was the smell of a train ride, it was the sound of sandals on sand and the drip of lukewarm icecream down a waffle cone. It was a grassy field and the feeling of summer.

“I know this song,” she realized aloud. He smiled at her, showing crooked teeth and shining eyes. She steadied herself, taking a breath, waiting for the right moment-

“Country road,” she sung softly, not loud enough to hear if you were standing in another room “take me home… To a place, where I belong,” and the lyrics felt fitting but they didn’t sting as Odin played, following her voice, making it take lead. “West Virginia,” she sang louder, and Odin joined her with his wolfish voice, deep and dulcet as howls “Mountain momma,” he grinned.

“Take me home,” they sang in unison “country road.”

She laughed. “You’re so stupid, that was _dumb_ ,” she put her hand over her face and sighed, partly from embarrassment and part from the warmth building in her gut.

“I th-thought it was n-nice. I l-like your voice.”

“Your voice is good too. You should sing and play at the bar.”

He barked a laugh. “No, n-no way. I only s-sing f-for people I l-like.”

Ava looked between her fingers. “Do you like me?” His gaze settled on her, and he smiled fondly.

“Y-Yeah. I do.”

Her face was pooling with warmth, and she didn’t want to move her hands, because then he would see her blush and tease her about it, because he was so good at teasing.

“So, do you usually try to serenade girls in a piano duet?”

Odin chuckled, turning around in his seat. “W-Well, Olai tried it on-once – but he’s sh-shit at piano, and it en-ended up a t-total wreck.”

Ava contemplated a moment, furrowing her eyebrows. “So, he’s your older brother… right?”

Odin’s face lit up with a realization. “Oh, y-yeah! J-Just a moment…” He shuffled around his bag for a moment, before producing a framed picture. He held it up to Ava.

It was an older photograph. Ava could spot Odin by his bright eyes and snaggled teeth, even if he was a few years younger. Beside him were three girls, hair as dark as his, and an older boy who had Odin in a headlock.

It was a family photo.

“I r-realized you d-don’t even kn-know what they l-look like, even af-after I kinda ranted to y-you about them,” he rubbed the back of his head “but I br-brought this with t-to remind me wh-why I’m p-paying off my d-debt.”

Ava took the photo in her hands and tried to envision his house like how he described it when he was calming her down. A world filled with woodlands and music, with family.

How she envied him.

But now his frustrations made sense. Where she was alone, fighting for herself, he had a burden of family to uphold and fight for. She looked up at him, where he was pulling the sheets of his bed, preparing to lay down, and felt a swell of sympathy.

He was working at a bar, located at the end of all things, playing music for ghosts. It was all he could do, but he was doing it to the best of his abilities, and she looked down at the picture in her hands.

“My debt collector is Wrathia,” she blurted suddenly. He looked over his shoulder, eyebrows up and his mouth in a small frown. “That’s why… I hate working at the bar so much, you know?”

He nodded. “M-Mine’s Nanezgani, he lives ar-around here somewhere. H-Huge asshole.”

Bingo.

She stood up and smoothed the seat, putting the photo down. “Hey, uh, Odin? I’m gonna head home…” He suddenly stood upright, reaching for his jacket.

“I c-can give you a r-ride-”

“No! No, it’s okay… I can take care of myself,” she muttered, looking at her feet.

“Ah… y-yeah. So-S-Sorr-S-” he took a frustrated breath and managed to utter “-S- _Sorry_ for wh-what I said e-earlier.”

She nodded, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “Yeah, I know you are.” A silence filled with anxiety and helium built its way around the two of them, making them feel light and compressed at the same time. Ava managed to find her feet and turn around, waving over one shoulder.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” she spoke softly, “Goodnight.”

“G-Goodnight,” he replied, and she saw a flash of a smile on his face before shutting the door. Ava stared at the shadowed apartment for a moment, before leaning her back against his doorway, sighing.

She was used to this town.

She was used to constantly working for only herself.

Odin was used to being in a pack – he had never felt this sort of isolation.

She looked at her hands, drenched in moonlight, giving her palms a milky hue.

One of them had to leave the end of the world – and she found a wolf howling on its lonesome was a terribly aching sound.

OoooO

Pedri wasn’t sure who he was expecting when the door opened, but it certainly wasn’t a short redhead holding a wooden engraved box. He cocked his head and flipped his newspaper shut, laying it flat on his desk.

“Can I help you with something?”

She wet her lips anxiously, and she drummed her fingers along the edge of the box.

“I’m here to pay off a debt.”

OoooO

Odin’s phone was ringing to the point that he found the tune to be more annoying that the pigeons that plagued the streets, so he rolled out of bed trying to reach it, hitting his head on the floor.

Hissing, sobering up with the pain, he reached forward and flipped it open. “Wh-Wh-WHAT?” he snapped, holding his head with one hand and cradling his phone with the other.

“ _Congratu-_ fucking _-lations_ , _Arrow_ ,” Pedri hissed from the other side “ _your debt is paid. Go home you mutt.”_

Odin sat up, his ears filled with white noise. “What? Wh-What are you t-talking about?”

“ _Don’t act like you don’t know._ ”

“Know wh-what?”

_“The redhead that came in earlier…? Paid off the rest of your debt, cash upfront? Don’t act infantile_ ,” his voice went lower, murmuring like ocean waves against a chasm “ _Your debt is paid, so leave my town_.”

The line went dead, and Odin numbly dropped the phone by his hip, blinking owlishly at the air.

Ava paid his debt off?

He grit his teeth, hopping to his feet and untangling the blanket that was wrapped around him. She had her own debt to pay off, why worry about his?!

He reached out to grab his jacket, only to freeze seeing the picture of his family on the chair.

The comprehension hit him like cold ice shattering on a hot anvil. She had seen his family and considered his debt to be more monumental than hers.

He cursed under his breath and began pulling his jacket on almost violently, ignoring how the leather pinched at his shoulders. He had just told her that their debts were equal, different in their importance, and just had to go off and play hero?

His hand lingered over the door handle, in spite of his haste to find her.

She wasn’t trying to play hero – there was little valor left in Ava Ire after the long years had choked it out of her. She was trying to do what she thought was right, and he was stunned for a moment that she considered Odin to be someone worth prioritizing.

He finally flung the door open and stomped downstairs, passing Tuls – he recognized his hunched, shadowy figure anywhere – and the tree of a man asked lowly “Bad night?”

Odin couldn’t trust himself to reply right then, being overwhelmed with a turmoil of emotions, but he grunted in reply and seized the handle to his car, yanking it open and practically dropping into the driver’s seat.

He sped over to the local hub, trying to keep his cool. It wouldn’t do any good to just lash out at her, Ava was a jackrabbit of many talents, one of them being to fight fire with fire.

Arriving at the bar, he tried to control his breathing.

He finally pulled the door open and the second he saw the toss of her scarlet hair, he exploded.

“Wh-What were y-you th- _thinking_?!” He demanded, stepping forward, each footfall determined. The blotch of shadow that made up Ava’s face finally took form in a scowling mouth and furrowing brows, brown eyes burning; she was going to fight back.

“I was _thinking_ ,” she punctuated the last word by slamming her hand on the counter “that I was going to help my _friend_.”

“I d-don’t-”

“You don’t need my help, of course you don’t,” she spat, turning around and grabbing a bottle off the wall to serve another faceless customer “but it’s too late now! You can’t take money back from these sorts of things, and-”

“I d-don’t understand wh-why you’d p-pick me over y-you,” he interrupted, his hands out, palms up and face riddled with frustration and pleading.

The anger on her face fought ruthlessly, but her eyebrows upturned and her expression melted into resignation. The bar was quiet, and she would not answer him.

He finally turned and sat down at the piano, playing a familiar tune. There was a low murmur that echoed through the bar, suggesting each patron had a different theory on what had just transpired, but Odin didn’t care about the shadows. He watched Ava from the corner of his eye, and the moment she put her things down to go on break, he ended the song abruptly and followed her into the back room.

She stood with her back facing him, her hair tied in that familiar bun, her hands clenched so tightly her knuckles were white.

“Wh-Why did you p-pay my debt?”

Her voice was softer than he had ever recalled it being before, barely pulling across the distance between them.

“My loneliness is tolerable. Yours… is not.”

He blanched. “Wh-What are you t-talking about?”

“I’m used to an empty house, Odin!” She finally turned around, and he hated that her eyes were puffy, that her mouth trembled as the tackled the urge to cry. “Loneliness… It’s all I’ve ever known. But you-! You have a family! You have a place where you belong!”

He took a step forward – she took a step back.

“Y-You have a pl-place you belong too!” he insisted, fearful at how hollow she referred to herself.

“Where, Odin?” She slapped a hand outwards to the hall, where the shadows crept, listening in. “In the bar? In my empty home?! In the graveyard?!”

A chill sliced down Odin’s back so sharply it almost hurt.

“Where do I belong?!”

He finally closed the tense distance between them, grabbing onto her shoulders and holding her tightly. The wolf had finally caught the rabbit, but in what a wretched circumstance it was.

“Wo-Would it…” his voice dropped so that the gossiping drinkers might not hear it, these words were for her and her alone “would it be s-so bad… to be-belong with m- _me_?”

Her face unwound from its tension, her jaw going slightly slack. A charming blush brightened her cheeks, tracing up her ears hot enough that he felt it where his thumbs brushed the ends of her hair.

“I…”

His breath stopped.

“…I need to go back to the counter,” she mumbled, looking away.

Odin knew his face couldn’t mask the crestfallen sensation in the hollow of his chest, but he dropped his hands from her shoulders. She stepped aside, rubbing her hands over her shoulders where he had held her, before Ava added under her breath “I still have a debt to pay, Odin… I can’t go with you.”

Odin turned and watched her go, anxiously biting the inside of his cheek. This was true – Ava practically paid for his freedom, but now she was still in the dirt pit.

Playing piano couldn’t fix everything – as a nervous habit, his fingers went to his collarbone and played with the ring, letting it clink along the links of the thing chain that hung loosely from his throat.

He blinked.

The ring.

Looking down at it, he recalled that it was actually worth a lot – his family didn’t know about it, or really care about it, a secret between mother and son – but he had, on occasion, considered selling it to pay off his debt.

His debt was paid – Ava’s was not. He couldn’t risk leaving her and letting her get consumed by this town.

Could he give up sentimentality for the sake of his only friend?

Looking back on it, she must have done the same for him. With his choice in mind, he breached the hallway, hoping she didn’t see his wolfish grin.

OoooO

Ava sat at the counter, drearily wiping it off. She was going to be here for awhile yet, so there was no reason to rush.

Odin had left a few hours ago, and she missed the sounds of the piano that crept to the dark shadows of the bar, fending them off with nothing more than a lighthearted tune.

Her cellphone chimed, and she flipped it open – a text?

It was from Wrathia, and she wondered whether or not she should open it. She was already emotionally compromised as is – she really didn’t need this kind of abuse right now. Or ever.

She hesitantly opened the message, only to blink in confusion.

“ _You’re fired_ ,” the text read. Ava felt her heart drop into her gut, and frantically texted back.

“ _Why am I fired???_ ”

There was a few pensive moments of silence as she picked at her knees, anxious.

Her phone chimed – she hesitantly opened it.

“ _You don’t need to work at my bar if your debt is paid. Fuck off_.”

She was overcome with confusion for a single moment – before she remembered Odin conveniently leaving early. She slammed her fists on the table so hard the glasses on it shuddered together, clinking violently. “That _fucker_!” she yelled aloud, and the patrons all leisurely scooted away so that they might not get burned while the fire was bellowing. “I told him-!”

How did he even pay her debt?

That didn’t matter – well, it did, that was going to be the base of their argument – but she didn’t even ask him for help! She was trying to get him out of this town!

She realized she couldn’t leave the bar unattended, before recalling Wrathia’s text. She didn’t work here anymore.

“I’m leaving forever,” she announced to the shadows, creeping and watching, swollen with their own drunkenness “and no one is watching the counter!”

There was a faint and echoed cheering from the veterans who clinked their glasses together, getting her meaning.

_Fuck you, Wrathia,_ Ava thought with a smug grin as she bolted out the door, not even taking her apron off. As the wooden doors shut behind her, she could see in her peripherals that one of the patrons was already shuffling behind the counter for a free drink.

She was out of breath by the time she sprinted across the crosswalk. Where did he live, again? The sun wasn’t down yet, the sky was only slightly dusted with lavender – she wasn’t scared of the dark, out here in the sun, but that didn’t stop the fear of confusion from making a nest in her gut, fluttering nervously up her stomach.

Tuls approached, his ridiculous curly red hair stark against dark skin. “Ava… Looking for something?”

“Yeah,” she murmured as she spun around, trying to remember directions in a car, in the dark. “Odin.”

“Odin? He’s packing, I had to dodge a suitcase on my way down the stairs.” Tuls was shuffling through his pockets.

Down the stairs?

Ava knew where Tuls lived, and that meant Odin was in the same apartment complex. “Thank you Tuls, goodbye!” She shot off again, hearing a muffled “wait!” behind her, but she was already gone.

Her shoes echoed off the concrete, and her chest hurt from breathing too hard. She really wasn’t a runner, and her teeth ached as she leaned her hands on her knees.

Tul’s place was just around the bend.

She heard a piano playing.

Her aching chest was forgotten and she pushed herself to go around the bend, beads of sweat dripping down her face as she forced her feet to move. Her calves ached when she finally reached the bend and saw a head of black hair, leaned over a toy piano.

OooooO

Odin turned when he saw the toss of fire across the parking lot.

Ava’s face was completely flustered, her hair clinging to the sweat of her face and her expression absolutely livid. She was out of breath though, he could tell with how her chest rose and fell in such quick intervals, and how slow her steps were.

“You,” she managed to gasp “paid off… my debt.”

He turned and set his piano into the passenger seat. “Yup.”

“Why…would you… do something… like that…” she stooped down and leaned her back against the car as she swallowed a few more breaths. The tips of her fingers were flushed too, and she still had her apron on.

“B-Because you’re my fr-friend, and I h-had th-the means.” He opened up the trunk and plopped his second suitcase inside, pushing it to the front. He still had a lot of space, and he pat himself on the back.

“How?”

He turned and found the intensity of her eyes at twilight was more than enough to make him go weak at the knees. He steadied himself by putting a hand on the car, trying to ground himself against such fiery eyes, in the purplish hue of the descending sun – they looked almost scarlet.

“I… s-sold s-something to a l-local j-jeweler. D-Don’t worry ab-about it.”

She blurted “Your mother’s ring?! Are you kidding me!” He blinked as she took a step forward and jabbed a finger in his sternum. “That was a family keepsake! From your mother, Odin! Why, Why would you do that?!”

He was somewhat impressed she caught onto that so quickly, but it was also a little irritating. He snatched her hand and pulled it aside, in the process unintentionally yanking her closer and shortening the distance between them. “I w-was helping a fr-friend.”

She scowled and took another step forward, hissing “You cannot use my own words again me.”

Odin could almost feel the heat of her breath as he lowered down to match eyes with her, just enough so he was leaning over her. “Oh, s-so when you h-help a fr-friend its f-fine, but when I d-do its n-not allowed?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it!” She yanked her hand out of his grip, but went on her tiptoes to continue spitting vinegar at him. “I was trying to get you home!”

“And I’m tr-trying to g-get you out of y-yours! Th-That’s not a h- _home_ , Ava-” He took hold of her shoulders, unable to keep seeing her standing out of breath and exhausted without any support “-that’s a graveyard! And I’m n-not gonna l-let you die th-there!”

She didn’t say anything, but she was boiling up again, ready to explode at the drop of a pin. Her cheeks were darkening, her eyebrows downturned and her eyes like glowing red slits, but her appearance did little to stop the onslaught of emotions that tumbled so carelessly out of his mouth.

“I’m n-not going to l-let you be alone an-anymore!”

She suddenly lurched forward and he expected her to bite his face or head-butt him or something equal parts painful and violent, but instead her hands pulled on the leather of his jacket and he felt her soft lips against his.

He froze, but instinct commanded his hands to scoop her up by her hips, pulling her upwards a little more so she had easier access to his mouth. Her kiss was chaste but firm, and it was enough to make his passion in the argument melt like butter on a hot skillet.

This was why the wolf hunted the rabbit so carefully, but it seemed the clever canine was caught in a trap of its own making.

She was taking her time with the kiss, and he didn’t mind – this was as close as he could get to fire without getting burned, and her flame was the only thing keeping him sane in this whole town.

His arms began to ache holding her up, but he made no sign of it. He wanted the kiss to last as long as possible – and this one, it seemed, was a kiss of understanding and mutual gratitude. They had saved the other from this place, at a dear cost, yet they had both given their most precious things anyway.

Ava’s chest was pressed against his, and her heart thrummed excitedly with its own tempo. The beat was unlike his own, which he could tell was almost sluggish in response, but he followed the music anyway, finding her scent so appealing and sating a hunger he hadn’t known he was starving from.

“Oh.”

They both went stiff.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Tuls ironically _interrupted_ _completely_ , casually slouched over as he looked between them.

Odin’s arms finally gave and Ava slipped from his grip, causing her to yip when her feet hit the pavement, little spikes of pain in her ankles.

“S-Sorry! I d-didn’t-”

“No, I didn’t-”

They stopped at the same time. Ava’s entire face had gained a glowing pink, and she put her hands to her cheeks, mumbling “oh geez.”

“Wh-Wh-What do you WANT Tuls?!” Odin blurted, turning very slowly, almost in a sinister way.

“Oh…right.” He neared, his steps calculated, and he zeroed in on Ava. “We… I mean, the bar patrons… You’ve taken such good care of us, since you were so young… Here.” He handed her a slim black box, and she blinked before taking it. “Those of us who have been around… we all pitched in to get you something.”

She ran her hand along the soft black velvet of the box, but Odin was still fighting his embarrassed blush in spite of the change of topic. “What’s inside?”

Tuls smiled softly. “They decided I should pick the gift… since I had a sweetheart once… but this one had such a lovely ruby on it, I thought it would be perfect for you, it matches your hair.”

Ava twisted her mouth before flipping the box open.        

She stared for a moment before breathing “Oh, this fixes _everything_.” Tuls was about to ask what it was, before Ava threw an arm around his shoulders. “Oh, thank you so much Tuls!”

“You’re… welcome. I will… see you later, maybe,” he nodded, more eager to leave out of his own comfort than that of the two young adult sitting before him. Ava was grinning widely, and she shot a leering smile at Odin, who straightened his jacket in response.

“…Wh-What. What’s in th-the box?”

Ava opened it to him and he blinked rapidly.

Sitting snugly on a chain was his very own mother’s ring.

“Here you go!” she offered with a laugh. “I guess you didn’t lose anything after all!”

It was tempting to take it back. The familiar weight of it around his throat was enough to make him reach out, yearning for it to bob against his collarbone again, but he smiled and pushed the box back towards her.

“Y-You know wh-what, you h-hold onto that. I h-have a f-feeling you’d be getting it ev-eventually anyway.”

She frowned and looked from the ring back to him. “What?”

“N-Nothing,” he muttered, smothering the blush in his cheeks. “S-So, do you w-wanna pack now?”

“Pack for what,” she asked, pulling the necklace out and draping it over her head, pulling her hair out from under the chain. She took off the apron and tossed it aside – the ring looked good on her, but he wished she would wear it on her finger.

“L-Leaving. You’ve g-got no r-reason to st-stay in this t-town anymore.”

She rolled on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, but how would I leave?”

The pearly train let out one final blare in the distance, pulling a weight of people away. They watched the plume of smoke rise from where it went down the track faraway, and she sighed.

“I missed the train. Not that I could afford it anyway.”

Odin gently rapped his knuckles on her scalp. “M- _My_ car, r-rabbit. It c-can hold a f-few m-more bags.”

Her jaw went slack and she looked between his open car and him a few times, before asking in astonishment “What- really? You want me to go with you?”

“I w-wouldn’t have of-offered otherwise.”

Her mouth split in a smile that could outshine the sun.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll go with you!”

Odin would deny the relief that spread throughout his chest, loosening his shoulders and easing his spine.

Maybe things would work out for once.

OoooO

She didn’t have a lot. Not that she should have – Odin had a fairly small, crappy car, and having two people in it was already a stretch, much less two people and luggage.

He did leave his small portable piano out, though. It was a child’s toy, but he still dawdled with it, tinkering it with the tips of his fingers as Ava pushed the last briefcase into the back of his car.

“Y-You don’t h-have t-to,” he murmured hesitantly, focusing a little too hard on the keys “if y-you d-don’t want to.”

Ava leaned against the passenger seat, legs kicking out the open door. She smiled softly at the way he defiantly didn’t look at her, anxious that she would change her mind.

“It’s fine, Odin. I want to come along. As long as your house has the room.”

He scoffed, finally looking up. “It h-has the r-room. Olai will s-say oth-otherwise, but it d-does.” He glanced behind her to see her house, looming loudly behind her. It was almost leaning over the car, as though it was going to collapse over them and be done with their antics. “Wh-What about your h-house?”

She tapped her purse, snuggle kept at her hip. “I sold it to Wrathia. She said she wanted a new office, and it’s big enough – if she’s willing to make repairs.”

Odin shrugged as Ava hopped inside, shutting the door firmly. He started the ignition, passing the toy piano to her. “I b-bet she l-lowballed you.”

Ava made a monosyllabic noise in agreement, her mind on the piano sitting on her lap and the possible future.

“So, what did you think of working at the bar?”

He blinked, finding he was being studied by her bright eyes carefully, his reaction calculated. “W-Was I s-supposed to h-have an op-opinion?”

“I just wanted to know how it felt for you. I’ve worked – er, used to work there for so long I forgot it got spooky, what with the old building and the eerie drinkers,” she elaborated with the wave of her hand.

“I-It felt like a gh-ghost town p-people forgot t-to le-leave,” Odin muttered. “I’m gl-glad you’re c-coming with me. Th-That place w-wasn’t for you.”

He noticed the soft blush that crept up her ears but didn’t say anything about it.

They took a turn, and the edge of the town came into view – Odin slowed the car.

“What’re you doing?”

He sighed, fingers drumming the steering wheel. “Y-You’re _certain_ you w-want to come with m-me.”

She laughed, short but genuine. “I haven’t anywhere _else_ to go.”

A smile cracked his stoic mask.

“T-True.”

He hit the gas and the car slipped a little on the asphalt as it veered across the boundary of the town – Odin took in a deep breath, relaxing in the thought that for once, he was making the right choice.

The sun was setting and the world went dim.

That was how Ava liked it, only this time she was able to share it with another.

Ava’s eyes felt heavy as the car rumbled underneath her, the bar far behind her and her future opening before her.

She smiled and closed her eyes.

“Thank you,” she murmured softly, her hands brushing the miniature piano on her knees “for working at my bar…” Idly, she reached up and touched the ring resting on her collarbone.

Odin’s eyes flicked to her for a moment, sharp and dark as the night sky settling around the vehicle.

“It w-was my pleasure.”

As they drove on a path away from the end of all things, Odin considered himself lucky enough to have a companion for the journey.

Once, just once – he looked out the rearview mirror to look at the town that had ensnared them for so long.

It was fading with the sunset. He knew someone would be at the bar, cleaning the counters, but it wouldn’t be Ava. Someone would be at the piano, either playing it for kicks or using it as an extra table, but it wouldn’t be Odin.

For that, he was glad.

He did feel a little bad that people like Tuls and Gev would still be there, but when push came to shove, only rabbits and wolves knew when to flee.

And as far as rabbits went, he really lucked out with Ava.

Ironically enough, just before Ava completely fell out of consciousness, her last thought was “I really lucked out with meeting Odin” before she was shrouded in darkness.

For once, it seemed the bar at the end of the world released two of her most lively to live in a better place – a better world – and the two of them did, far happier in the forests of Odin’s home than in the dim light of the aching bar.

 

 


End file.
